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THE 


Darkwood Tragedy 


BY 

LULA V. STENZEL 

Author of “ Breta’s Double,” Etc. 




WASHINGTON, D. C.: 

THE NEATE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
431 Eleventh Street 
MCMII 








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CCN0RSS3. 

Two Cof^M RficetvCD 

MAY. 12 1902 

CotVRHJHT CNTRV 

CLASS It XXc. No. 

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COPY 0. 


COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 


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DEDICATED 
TO THE MEMORY OF 
MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH 

WHOSE SYMPATHY, ENCOURAGEMENT AND ADVICE 
HAVE EVER INSPIRED THE BEST EFFORTS OF 


THE AUTHOR 



CHAPTER I. 


‘ ‘ All murders past do stand excused in this — 

And this so sole, and so unmatchable, 

Shall prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest 

Exampled by this henious spectacle.” 

‘‘Help ! Murder ! Help I’^ 

The uncanny words rang forth on the still night 
air with distinctness at first, and then in a more sup- 
pressed tone were repeated — 

“Help V* Then all was still. 

The first shrill cry aroused the inmates of Dark- 
wood Villa, who rushed from the house in alarm. 

The call for help had emanated from the grounds, 
and in that direction they bent their steps, appalled by 
the thought that someone was being murdered within 
the very gates of the Villa. 

“From which direction did that cry come asked 
Philip Darkwood, turning to the others, who were 
following his lead. 

“It sounded to me as if it came from the direction 
of the lodge'’ nervously answered Caro Darkwood, 
his cousin. 

“What Caro ! You out here ? I thought you were 
in bed asleep. Did you hear that first cry ?” 

“Yes ; I was awake, and as soon as those dreadful 
words rang forth I jumped from my bed and ran to 
the window, when I heard it repeated, as if the person 


lo 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


who Uttered it was being strangled. Oh ! Cousin 
I hilip, who could it have been 

“We will soon find out, he answered hoarsely. 
“Come, we will go toward the lodge, as Caro sug- 
gests,” he added, turning and addressing those be- 
hind. 

Suddenly Caro exclaimed : 

“Cousin Philip, where is papa ? I wonder if he 
didn't hear that terrible cry.” 

“Is he not with us ? Caro, you had better return 
to the house. This is no place for you,” returned 
Philip Darkwood nervously. 

“I intend to remain, however, and see who uttered 
those distressing cries. Why should I not see as well 
as the rest of you ? I am not a coward, as you well 
know.” 

“I know you are not a coward, but Caro you would 
not care to look upon a murdered man.” 

“How do you know it is a man ? Did you hear it 
£0 distinctly as to distinguish whether it was a man 
or woman ?” she asked sharply. 

“Not more distinctly than the rest of you, I sup- 
pose, but it sounded to me like a man’s voice. Did it 
not to you ?” 

“I could scarcely tell. It was so sudden, and sent 
such a horrible feeling through me, that I could not 
say whether it was a man’s voice or a woman’s,” she 
answered, as a shiver passed over her frame. 

“Well, if you will come I cannot prevent you ; but, 
believe me, it would be advisable for you to return 
to—” 

“Oh heaven ! What is this ?” shrieked Celine, 
Caro’s maid, as she stumbled over something in her 
path. “Oh Mr. Philip, bring the lantern here quick !” 

They all rushed to the spot where Celine stood. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY II 

frightened nearly to death at her discovery of the 
murdered person, whoever it was. Philip Darkwood 
threw the light of the lantern upon rhe face of the 
man, for man it proved to be, when — 

'‘Papa ! Oh my heart I Papa shrieked Caro 
Darkwood, as she caught a glimpse of the man's face. 

She fell on her knees beside the still form and 
then — 

“Oh papa, papa ! He has been murdered ! Look ! 
Look ! Blood ! See, his throat has been cut. Oh ! 
who committed this cruel deed ? He was all I had. 
All ! And now some one has robbed me of him. Oh 
papa ! I will find your murderer, I will avenge you ; 
I swear it ! Oh < I — " 

“Catch her, quick I” cried Celine, as she saw her 
mistress about to fall. 

Javins, the butler, caught her before she fell. The 
excitement and horror of the discovery of her mur- 
dered father had been too much for her, and she had 
fainted away into merciful oblivion. 

“Celine, you and Javens take her to the house,” 
commanded Philip Darkwood. “Now, Dabney, go 
and get something that will serve as a stretcher, while 
John goes for the doctor. I cannot believe that he is 
dead. Oh ! who could have done this dastardly deed, 
and what could have been the object ? Poor Uncle 
Jack, this is terrible !” exclaimed Philip Darkwood. 

“Are you going to stay here alone, Mr. Philip, until 
I come back ?” asked Dabney. 

“Yes, I will stay by poor uncle. Why not?” 

“Ugh ! I wouldn’t stay alone with a dead man for 
something pretty, I wouldn’t.” 

“Hurry dong, man, I am not a coward like you,” 
he answered nervously. 


12 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


And yet when left alone with the murdered man he 
began to tremble violently and an uncanny feeling 
stole over him. 

‘'Ugh !” he exclaimed to himself, “what if Caro 
should carry out her threat ? God, this will never 
do V* as he pulled a flask from his pocket and placed 
it to his lips. “Ah, that’s better. I must be discreet. 
Ah, my beautiful cousin, I will get you yet in spite 
of your dislike to me. Yes, will get you and your 
money too. And if you track your father’s murderer 
it will not be my fault. Pshaw ! A girl like that to 
think of doing such a thing ! She will never suc- 
ceed, never ! I’ll see that you do not, my haughty 
cousin,” he muttered as he took another pull at the flask 
before returning it to his pocket. 

While he stood and gazed on the still, cold face of 
his uncle as if fascinated by the sight of the blood 
upon his neck and clothing, a shiver passed over him, 
and he reeled like a drunken man, and would have 
fallen had he not caught at the trunk of a tree for 
support. 

“Heavens ! I could have sworn that he raised his 
arm and pointed his forefinger at me. And yet I 
know he is stiff and cold in death. Ugh ! Will I see 
such sights all the rest of my life ? I will see that 
look on his face until I die. I wish Dabney would 
hurry. If I have to stay here much longer alone I 
shall go mad. I thought I was not a coward, but that 
look, that look ! I shall never forget it ! Never ! I 
almost wish — ” He straightened up as he heard the 
footsteps of Dabney and Javins returning with an old 
couch between them. 

“Here, Mr. Philip, we have brought this. Shall we 
place him on it now or shall me wait until the doctor 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


13 


comes ? If he is alive it may be dangerous to move 
him.” 

'‘Take him to the house. He would be more apt to 
die lying out here in the dampness, if he is not already 
dead. But I fear the doctor can do no good when he 
does come, because I am confident now that he is 
dead. Why, man, he is stiff and cold now. He was 
warm when we first found him, but you can see for 
yourself that life is extinct.’’ 

“Yes, Mr. Philip, I believe it is. Who could have 
had a grudge against poor master ? It is horrible to 
think of ! Murdered within his own gates. Mur- 
dered in cold blood, while we, who would have given 
our lives for him, were asleep. Where is the lodge- 
keeper ? He surely must have heard him when he 
called for help. I have not seen him since we came 
out.” 

“Javins,” said Philip, go down to the lodge and see 
if he knows anything of this. It does seem strange 
that he has not made his appearance.” 

He returned in a few minutes with a puzzled look, 
exclaiming : “Why, Mr. Philip, he is in bed, and I 
could not waken him. Indeed, he looks to me like he 
has been drugged, from the heavy way he was breath- 
ing. If you believe me, sir, I believe the same hand 
that murdered poor master has drugged the lodge- 
keeper so that he could not hear and give an alarm 
before he made his escape.” 

“Perhaps so. This is very mysterious,” returned 
Philip, unsteadily. “Take the body to the house, and 
I will go down to the lodge and see if your suspicion 
that the keeper has been drugged is correct. I will 
follow you in a few minutes.” 

When left to himself, instead of going to the lodge, 
as he said he would, he began to pace backward and 


14 the darkwood tragedy 

forward beneath the trees. He struck a match, and 
going to the spot where the body of his uncle had 
been lying in a pool of blood, he looked around the 
ground as if in search of something, but several times 
he lit a match without finding that for which he was 
searching. The sight of the blood made him shudder, 
and he shook as if he were attacked by a chill. He 
again resorted to the flask which he carried in his 
pocket, this time emptying it of its contents at a single 
draught. 

‘T am becoming an out and out fool to let the sight 
of his blood affect me so. What has come over me 
anyway, that I am becoming such a coward. Ugh ! 
What was that ? I could swear that I heard him 
groaning again. Good heavens! I must get away 
from this. I will return to the house. Anything is 
better than remaining out here,” he muttered. 

Hurrying back to the villa, he ascended the veranda 
steps just as the doctor arrived, followed by the ser- 
vant, who had been sent for him. 

After examining the body the doctor remarked : ‘Tt 
was useless, my dear friends, to send for me. The 
man is dead. You have my sympathy in your great 
sorrow, but I am powerless to aid you. How horrible 
that he should be cut down so with out a minute's 
warning I Who could have committed so ghastly a 
crime ?” 

‘‘We have no idea,” replied Philip Darkwood, com- 
ing forward. 'T did not know that Uncle Jack had an 
enemy in the world. And the object could not have 
been robbery, because nothing is missing from his 
person. 

"'But what was he doing in the grounds at so late 
an hour ?” queried Dr. Ames. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


15 


*‘That is the mystery of it. It may be that he was 
feeling badly and went out into the night air. I can 
account for it in no other way/^ returned Philip. 

While he was speaking, a slight figure entered the 
library, with great, slumbrous dark eyes, that had a 
look of wild despair within their depths, — Caro 
Darkwood, the murdered man’s daughter. 

She went up to the still form lying on the couch 
and cried : 

“Oh papa, papa !” 

“My dear Miss Caro, you should not look on such 
scenes as this,” said Dr. Ames as he took her hand 
in tender pity. 

“Why should I not ?” she asked. 

“Did I not hear him when he cried for help ? Did 
I not see him when he was lying there with blood 
all around him ? Oh doctor, I shall never forget it, 
never ! And I shall find his murderer,” she con- 
tinued. “I shall find him and make him suffer for 
the terrible crime he has committed. Here by the 
murdered body of my father, I swear to avenge him 1 
I, and I alone, will do it. And I feel that God will 
let me live until I have found my father’s murderer, 
and brought him to justice.” 

“Miss Caro, you should put this in the hands of a 
detective,” said the doctor. 

“No, I shall not do that. I have sworn that I will 
find this wretch who has robbed me of my all, and I 
will keep my oath !” she cried hoarsely. 

Clasping her little hands and placing them to her 
head she rocked to and fro, feeling as if her head and 
heart were bursting. 


i6 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


Until now, Caro’s terrible agony had been a tearless 
one, and how truly the poet has written that 

‘'The eyes that cannot weep 
Are the saddest eyes of all.” 

But as she buried her face in her hands, tears came 
to her relief to ease her tortured brain. 

Celine at last persuaded her to go to her room and 
lie down. The weeping exhausted her, so that at last 
she sank to sleep ; but even this brought her little re- 
lief, for in her dreams she beheld the still form of her 
murdered father with blood all around him, and she 
would cry out in her sleep. 

After Caro left the library and the doctor had taken 
his departure, Philip Darkwood paced to and fro in 
wild excitement. He could say with Shakespeare, 

‘T would not spend another such night 
Though it were to buy a world of happy days — 
So ’’iull of dismal terror was the time.” 

And the time he was left alone with the dead man 
was full of dismal terror for him indeed. 

At every sound he would start in alarm. 


CHAPTER IL 


“ No care of justice, nor no rule of reason, 
Did thenceforth ever enter in his mind, 

But cruelty, the sign of currish kind.” 


‘ ‘ My heart chills and my veins freeze with despair.” 

The last sad rites were performed over the body of 
John Darkwood and his remains were consigned to 
the family vault. 

The lawyer was waiting in the drawing-room, for 
the appearance of Caro before reading the dead man's 
will. 

“Ah, here she is,” said Philip Darkwood as the 
slender dark-robed figure entered. 

“I believe we are all assembled now,” began the 
lawyer. “You will please pay attention while I read 
this document : 

“ T, John Darkwood, of Darkwood Villa, bequeath 
all my personal and real estate to my only child, Caro 
Evelyn Darkwood, on condition that she marry her 
cousin, Philip Darkwood. If she refuse, then my 
whole estate goes to the said Philip Darkwood uncon- 
ditionally, and I bequeath to my daughter the sum 
of one hundred dollars.' ” 

As the words of the lawyer reached Caro’s ears, she 
sprang to her feet in amazement. 

“What ! My father make such a will as that ? I 
do not believe it !” 


1 8 THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 

‘‘Yes, Miss Caro, this is your father’s last will and 
testament.” 

“I repeat, I do not believe it ! He would not be 
so unjust as to cut his only child off in that manner. 
When was that will made ?” 

“Here, you can see the date,” observed the lawyer 
passing the will to her. 

“Why, this is dated two years back, and I know 
my father made a will about a year ago. Where is 
that ?” 

“This is the only will we could find. Miss Dark- 
wood. If your late father made another will we 
know nothing of it.” 

“I will never submit to the terms of that will. I 
cannot believe that papa ever made such an unjust 
will as that. Why should he wish me to marry Philip 
Darkwood, when he knew that I never even liked 
him. And then if I refused, to leave me a paltry hun- 
dred dollars, — I, his only child. Oh ! I will never 
believe it ; never !” she hoarsely cried. 

“I am sorry. Miss Darkwood, but this will is 
genuine, for it has your father’s signature in his own 
handwriting. I hope you will consider the matter and 
do what will be best for you. I am sure you would 
not like to leave your old home.” 

“No, I should not like to leave it, but it seems that 
I must. For I will never consent to carry out the 
terms of that will by becoming the wife of Philip 
Darkwood.” 

“Caro, you had better think this matter over before 
you decide hastily in this affair,” said Philip Dark- 
wood, coming forward and laying his hand on her 
arm. 

'T have thought it over as much as I intend to. I 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


19 


will never marry you, Philip Darkwood. You con 
take the money. It is not that which I care so much 
about, but now I have no means of tracking my 
father’s murderer. But I will work and I will suc- 
ceed.” 

‘‘Why not give it up, Caro ?” 

“No, I will never give up. I have made a vow to 
do it, and do it I will. Phil Darkwood, I believe you 
persuaded my father to make that will, if he really 
did make it. But why would papa listen to you.” 

“Caro you are unjust. I knew nothing of this 
will, although I have heard your father say he would 
like us to marry.” 

“It is not so, Phil Darkwood. I cannot believe 
papa ever said such a thing. I never did like you, but 
I tried to be civil. Now I hate you, because I know 
you had a hand in cheating me out of my inheritance. 
Take it, and may it do you much good ! I will not 
sell myself for gold.” 

“Mr. Tremaine,” turning to the lawyer, you will 
please let me have the hundred dollars as soon as pos- 
sible. 

“You are determined, then ?” asked the lawyer in 
astonishment. 

“Yes, I am determined. When may I have it ?” 

“Now, if you wish it. I have that much in my 
purse.” 

“You will please give it to me, then,” she returned 
excitedly. 

“Here, I think there are five twenties in this roll. 
But, my dear Miss Caro, you are not going to leave 
the villa immediately ?” 

“I have not made up my mind just when I will go. 
I suppose,” turning to Philip Darkwood, “you will 
not desire me to go immediately.” 


20 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“Certainly not, Caro, although you have said some 
unjust words about me. Think over this matter and 
stay always.’’ 

“I will not, as I told you before. I would rather 
starve than be your wife,” she answered haughtily. 

“Very well, if you prefer poverty to wealth it is 
your affair,” sneered Philip, an evil look in his eyes. 

When she was alone in her own room she paced to 
and fro in despair. 

“I do not believe it ! I cannot believe it ! That 
papa would do such a thing ! I know there is a 
later will than that, because papa told me that he was 
going to town one day to make his will, and told me 
to say nothing about it. 

“What became of it ? Philip Darkwood, you are 
at the bottom of this,” she cried. 

“Oh heaven ! Could it be ?” as a wild suspicion 
ran through her brain. “No, no! I am mad to think 
of it. Not that I Not that I But as sure as there 
is a heaven, there is another will, and I mean to find 
it if it takes a lifetime. I will go away from here to- 
night. No one shall know where, and some day I 
will come back and claim my rights.” 

“When sorrows come, they come not single spies. 
But in battalions.” 

Surely her sorrows were coming in battalions. Not 
only was she robbed of her father, her nearest living 
relative, but of her birthright as well. She was 
startled by a knock at her door. Opening it, she saw 
Celine standing on the threshold. 

“Miss Caro, I have something to say to you pri- 
vately.” 

“Come in, Celine, and tell me what you wish to 
say,” she replied in a dull tone. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


21 


When she had entered and closed the door behind 
her she turned to her mistress. 

“Miss Caro, I found this yesterday near the spot 
where your poor father was murdered, and I thought 
I would bring it to you.” 

Caro started as her maid held out to her what ap- 
peared to be a portion of a sleeve button. Her face 
became ghastly white, as she thought where she had 
seen a button like that before. 

Controlling her agitation as best she could, she 
remarked to Celine: 

That was right, Celine. Do not say anything about 
this to anyone. It may prove a clue in tracing poor 
papa's murderer. You will not mention this to any 
one, Celine ?” 

“No, certainly not. Miss Caro, if you wish me to 
hold my tongue. Wild horses couldn’t drag it from 
me if I once made up my mind not to speak of it. I 
only hope it will prove of use to you.” 

“It will, Celine, it will !” she returned excitedly. 
And, Celine, if you come across anything else that 
would give a clue, keep it and deliver it unto no one’s 
hand save mine.” 

“Very well. Miss Caro, I will remember.” 

“Now, Celine, you may go, as I wish to be alone,” 
she added hoarsely. 

When she was again alone, she took the sleeve 
button to the light and examined it carefully. 

“I am sure that I have seen that button before, and 
if my suspicion should be correct — Oh impossible ! 
It is too horrible to think of ! I will find the mate to 
this button ! And then — ” 

The thought of what would happen then seemed 
to turn her sick with terror. 


22 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


'‘Dear heaven, if it should be ! The two would 
connect so well !” she gasped, as her thoughts ran 
riot in her brain. 

She threw herself upon her couch, but not to sleep. 
The sickening fear that had taken possession of her 
kept her awake all night. Her brain seemed to be on 
fire. She felt that she must be up and doing, and at 
the first approach of dawn she donned a plain black 
dress and hat, and placing a few trinkets in a small 
satchel, she stole softly down the staircase. Cau- 
tiously opening the door and closing it behind her, she 
found herself in the open air. 

The cool morning atmosphere seemed to relieve her 
tortured brain in a measure, as she swiftly made her 
way through the grounds and out onto the road and 
bent her steps toward the railway station. 

She had taken enough money out to pay her fare, 
placing the remainder in her bosom for safety. As 
she wished no one to know whither she was going, she 
decided to leave Darkwood Villa before anyone had 
arisen, thus escaping the questions that would be 
asked of her. 

And least of all, did she wish to meet Philip Dark- 
wood. She felt that the sight of him would turn her 
sick with horror. 

Her steps became slower as she neared the station, 
and had she not made one last effort she would have 
missed the train. Entering a coach, she sank down 
into a seat almost exhausted ; the conductor asking 
for her fare twice before she realized what he was say- 
ing to her. Paying her fare in an abstracted way, she 
gave herself up to thoughts of what had befallen her, 
while the train rushed on, and the people around were 
unconscious of the wild schemes and feelings that 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


23 


were passing through the brain of Caro Darkwood. 

Suddenly there was a terrible jar and crash — 
screams of men and women, — and Caro Darkwood 
knew no more. 


CHAPTER III. 


*‘Thou earnest unknown and lonely — ^and around 

Thy coming and thy bearing and thy mood 

Hung mystery — and in guessing at its clew, 

Mystery grew interest, and the interest love !” 

“She is not dead, is she Hal ?” 

“No, mother, she lives, but that wound on her head 
looks dangerous. It was lucky that they brought her 
here where she could get immediate attention.’' 

“Was any one killed, Hal ?” 

“Several poor souls — and one woman was crushed 
beyond recognition. It was a terrible sight to look 
upon, — that mass of crushed and bleeding humanity. 
Even I, who am used to such sights, turned sick with 
horror,” returned Dr. Hal Westlake with a shudder. 

“And this poor child, was she alone ?” asked his 
mother. 

“She must have been, for no one recognized her. 
Something in her face aroused my pity and I told 
them to bring her here while I did what I could for 
the other sufferers.” 

“I wonder who she can be, Hal?” 

“That is a mystery, mother, that must remain a 
mystery until she herself is able to solve it. Poor 
little girl,” he murmured, as he looked down into her 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


25 


beautiful white face, that somehow or other interested 
him strangely. ‘‘We must take the best of care of 
her, mother,'’ he continued. 

“She must have had a narrow escape, poor child. 
Yes, Hal, I will care for her as if she were my own 
daughter, and with God’s help we will pull her 
through. Indeed she reminds me of my own little 
daughter who died years ago, she said, wiping a tear 
from her eye. 

“Did you find nothing at all about her person, 
mother, that would serve to identify her ?” 

“I found nothing but a roll of notes in her bosom 
and this trinket, which looks like a sleeve-button. It 
was wrapped in a piece of paper with the money. I 
will put them away until she recovers.” 

“I think her recovery will be slow, but with God’s 
help I will restore her to health and strength,” he re- 
sponded as he again gazed on the face that had 
aroused such a strange interest within him. “And 
now, mother, I leave her to your care for awhile, 
while I visit my patients,” he said as he gave one last 
look at the girl of whom he had assumed the charge. 

Dr. Hal Westlake, near whose home the accident to 
the train had occurred, had done all in his power to 
relieve the sufferers. 

The accident, which was due to a defective rail, 
caused several to lose their lives, while others were 
crippled for the remainder of their existence on earth. 

When Caro Darkwood felt the jar of the train and 
heard the shrieks of the people around her, she real- 
ized that something terrible had happened, and 
fainted from fright before any harm had befallen 
her. 

The cars ahead had rolled down a steep embank- 


26 


THB DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


ment, dragging the car in which she was seated after 
them. Had she not fainted, she might have escaped 
injury, but in her unconscious state her head had been 
struck by some sharp object that had inflicted a 
wound which caused those who had taken such an in- 
terest in her to have serious apprehensions. 

Dr. Hal Westlake scarcely dared ask himself what 
the feeling was that was stirring in his heart for this 
unknown girl. 

His patients noticed his abstracted manner and 
wondered what had come over Dr. Westlake. He 
had always been so talkative trying to raise their 
spirits, saying that ambition was half the battle in ill- 
ness. He did not remain with them as long as usual, 
seeming restless and in a hurry to be gone. 

It seemed to him that he would never get through 
with his professional calls and be able to return to his 
patient at home. He longed to look again at her lily- 
white face, and looked eagerly forward to the time 
when she would open her eyes to the light of reason, 
but he feared that she would have an attack of brain 
fever and would not rise from her couch for many 
days. When at last he reached home he found that 
his fears had been verified, for she was rolling and 
tossing in delirium. 

For days she remained in a precarious condition, 
and when Dr. Westlake realized that it might mean 
death, he knew, as he knew in all the after-days, that 
he loved her, and would continue to love her. 

"Let no one say that there is need 
Of time, for love to grow ; 

Ah, no ! the love that kills indeed, 
Dispatches at a blow.^' 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


27 


He realized that it was love that first prompted him 
to have this young girl brought to his own home and 
to care for her as he had done. Whenever he had 
leisure he would watch beside her couch, relieving his 
mother and the nurse, who took turns at watching 
beside the sufferer. The thought that she might die 
almost drove him wild with grief. 

At last the critical moment arrived when she would 
either pass into the other world or change for the 
better. 

*‘Hal, you had better lie down and take a little rest, 
remarked Mrs. Westlake, coming up to where he was 
sitting watching the face of his darling, for such he 
called her to himself. 

“No, mother, there will soon be a change, and I 
must stay beside her. Leave me alone. I will call you 
if a change takes place, he answered huskily. 

“God grant that she may live,” murmured Mrs. 
Westlake. 

“Amen,” reverently responded Hal wiping a tear 
from his eye as his mother left the room. 

He took his watch from his pocket. A few minutes 
more and — A gasp from the couch drew his attention 
instantly. He went up to her, thinking that perhaps 
that was the last, but a second or so more, and, to his 
great joy, she dropped off into a quiet slumber. 
Going to the door he called his mother — 

“Mother, the crisis is past. She will live !” he 
cried joyfully. 

“O, Hal, I am so glad that all our efforts have not 
been in vain. We shall soon know who she is,” said 
Mrs. Westlake. 

“She said such strange things in her delirium that 
I fear she has had some great trouble in her life. She 


28 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


would often cry out, 'Oh, papa, I will avenge you !’ 
And then again she would say, ‘I will go back and find 
it. I know there is another will.' I suppose they were 
just the ravings of delirium.” 

“But, Hal, she would always say the same words. 
I cannot help but think that there is some mystery 
connected with her life. ” 

“If there is, mother, I would be willing to stake my 
life on her.” 

“No. She has such an innocent look that I am sure 
she could have done no wrong to anyone. 

“Why, my son, I believe she has fascinated you,” 
remarked Mrs. Westlake. 

“She has, mother. But not a word to her,” re- 
turned he, paling. 

“I am glad my son, for I too have learned to love 
her as a daughter, and I would be more than glad if 
she were indeed my daughter.” 

“Hush, mother ! Remember, she has not as yet 
seen either of us, and to think of such a thing is 
absurd,” responded he with a tremor in his voice. 

“Why absurd ? Are you not worthy the love and 
esteem of any woman ?” 

“I know, mother, that you are prejudiced in regard 
to your only son, but you must remember that every- 
body does not see me with your eyes. But mind, 
never a word of this to her !” 

“You may trust me, my son, to keep my own coun- 
sel.” 

A few hours later, Mrs. Westlake was sitting in the 
sick-room, gazing from the v/indow on the green hills 
in the distance. Turning her gaze for an instant to- 
ward the couch, she saw two dark eyes staring at her 
in amazement. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


29 


On perceiving that she was noticed, she smiled, and 
asked : 

‘'Where am I ?” 

“With friends, my dear. You have been very ill,’' 
replied Mrs. Westlake, going up and seating herself 
near her, 

“But whose house is this ? How came I to be 
here ?" she queried wonderingly. 

“Can you not remember what happened to you, my 
dear child ?” 

“I forget,” she answered. 

“But you remember being on the cars and of their 
being wrecked, do you not ?” questioned Mrs. West- 
lake in amazement. 

“Oh ! what is the matter with me ? I cannot re- 
member. Are you sure I was on a train ?” 

“Certainly, child. You were injured, and my son. 
Dr. Westlake, found you and brought you here. We 
thought at first that you would not recover, but you 
have done nicely.” 

“And you have taken care of me all this time ? 
How long have I been here ?” 

“Nearly two weeks.” 

“How good you are, Mrs. Westlake ; I believe that 
is what you said your name was.” 

“Yes. And now child, what is your name ?” 

“My name ? Why my name is — Do you not know 
who I am ?” she asked in a strange manner. 

“No, my dear. I found nothing about you that 
would tell me who you were.” 

“Oh ! Mrs. Westlake, I cannot remember my own 
name,” said she bursting into tears. 

“There, there ! Do not excite yourself. You will 
remember everything after awhile, dearie,” said Mrs. 
Westlake, fearing lest any excitement would throw 


30 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


her into a fever again. Her son had cautioned her not 
to have her worry on any account. “Go to sleep now, 
and when you awaken you will feel better. Here, 
take a little of this,” placing a sleeping potion to her 
lips, which her son had left in readiness before start- 
ing out to perform his duties. 


CHAPTER IV. 


feel my sinews slacken’d with the fright, 

And a cold sweat thrills down all o’er my limbs, 

As if I were dissolving into water.” 

“Oh ! Mr. Philip, there has been a terrible acci- 
dent about forty miles up the road, and the station- 
master said that Miss Caro went on that very train 
this morning,” gasped Javins, rushing into the break- 
fast room at Darkwood Villa. 

“What, has she gone already ?” asked Philip Dark- 
wood in amazement. 

“Yes, sir ; but that’s not the worst of it. The sta- 
tionmaster said that knowing that Miss Caro was 
aboard that train he sent his son up to the scene of the 
accident to see if she was injured or not — you know 
he always thought a lot of her, and he just returned a 
short time ago and said that no one had seen a person 
alive answering her description, but that a woman 
wearing clothes like hers had been crushed beyond re- 
cognition.” 

“Saints alive !” exclaimed Philip, “it must have 
been Caro. Javins, you and Dabney go up there and 
if it proves to be Miss Caro, bring her here. I am all 
broken up. I do not feel that I could undertake the 
journey. Start at once ! Poor girl, poor girl !” 

When left alone his conscience smote him — 


32 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“I have driven her to her doom !” he cried. 

“But after all, perhaps it is best. She -was deter- 
mined to track her father’s murderer — ^now she can- 
not do it. I thought once that I loved her, but 
pshaw ! I love every good-looking face I see. 

“At all events, I have Darkwood Villa and ten 
thousand a year. What more could a oerson want ? 
No, I will not blame myself at all. Why did she not 
abide by the terms of the will ? Had she done so, I 
dare say I would have made her a good enough hus- 
band, and she would be living to-day. 

“But pshaw ! she is dead, and that is all there is of 
it. I will have to give her a decent burial, and, then 
to enjoy my good fortune ! Ah, Phil my boy, you are 
a lucky dog to step into so nice a nest, already feath- 
ered for you. Ah well, I think the game was worth 
the candle, after all.” 

Several hours later Javins and Dabney returned. 

They had identified the body as that of Caro Dark- 
wood, although the features were unrecognizable. A 
satchel had been found near the body, and this proved 
without a doubt that it was the dead girl for whom 
they were searching. The corpse was conveyed to the 
Villa, and on the following day was placed in the 
vault beside John Darkwood’s body. 

It was the evening of the seventh day after the 
supposed body of Caro Darkwood had been consigned 
to its last resting place, when a carriage drove up to 
Darkwood Villa and a lady attired in a neat-fitting 
black dress alighted and quickly ascended the veranda 
steps. 

Addressing the footman she told him she wished to 
see Mr. Philip Darkwood. 

“What name, madam ?” he asked. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


3 ^ 


“No name. But state that my business is urgent/’ 
she replied. 

When informed that there was a lady in the draw- 
ing-room who wished to see him on urgent business, 
he exclaimed : 

“Who in the mischief can it be ? A lady to see me ? 
Well, I suppose the way to find out is to go down and 
see. Somebody begging for some charitable affair, 
I dare say. To the dickens with them ! I will give 
them to understand that I am not John Darkwood, 
giving to every beggar that comes along.” 

Going lazily down the stairs, he opened the draw- 
ing-room door and entered. 

One glance in the direction of the form standing 
near the window and — 

“Cora Demar ! My heaven ! Alive and here !” 
he gasped, falling back in terror. 

“Why, to be sure I am alive. You did not think I 
was a ghost, did you ? Ghosts do not generally travel 
around in carriages, do they ?” she asked as she 
laughed derisively. 

“I thought you were dead !” he gasped. 

“Of course you did, monsieur. I am well aware of 
that fact. It was perfectly natural that you should 
think so, when yours was the hand — ” 

“Hush, for God’s sake ! Do not talk so loud. You 
will be overheard, he cried huskily. 

“Why should I care if I am overheard. I did not 
attempt to commit mur — ” 

“Hush, I tell you !” again interrupting her. 

What do I care what you tell me. Really, you 
make me laugh. I thought you knew enough of me 
in the old days to know that I care little what you 
say.” 


34 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“I know, I know. But talk lower, for God’s sake, 
or you will ruin me. The servants have ears like 
cats,” he answered excitedly. 

“O, well, monsieur, I will talk a little lower if you 
make it worth my while, as long as you are so fright- 
ened,” she returned sarcastically. 

“Frightened ! You are a fool, woman ; I am not 
frightened at you !” 

“Ah, you are not ? Judging by your looks, you 
were a few moments ago. But leave all that, I came 
here to talk business.” 

“Talk away, very quickly, then. You are wasting 
my time.” 

“Ah, indeed ! I dare say I will waste more of it 
before we say good-bye again. So you are master 
here now are you ?” she questioned. 

«T ...... » 

1 am. 

“Have you been up to some of your old tricks ? I 
would be willing to stake my life that you have.” 

“What are you talking about, woman ?” 

“You know as well as I, monsier. I heard that you 
had come into this inheritance rather suddenly, and 
drew my own conclusions, and they are seldom 
wrong. As I was rather in need, I thought I would 
help you enjoy your newly gotten wealth,” she said 
complacently, taking off her hat and gloves with an 
air of one who had come to stay. 

What are you going to do ? I will not have you 
here ! he stormed. 

“Yes you will, too. You dare not refuse to give me 
a home here. If you do I shall have you in jail 
within twenty-four hours.” 

What could you prove ?” he asked hoarsely. 

Everything. I could also have you arrested on sus- 
picion,” she answered blandly. 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


35 


“Suspicion ! Suspicion of what ?” 

“Of what ? Why of the murder of the late John 
Darkwood, to be sure/’ 

“You had better be careful how you speak,” he said, 
advancing toward her menacingly. 

“O, I am not afraid of you,” she replied. “Never- 
theless, Philip Darkwood, you had better keep your 
distance. I am not unarmed, you see,” oisplaying a 
small revolver. 

“What are you doing with that ?” 

“I merely keep it about me in case of an emergency. 
I have lived and learned that when one has to deal 
with murderers and such people, it is wise to be pre- 
pared.” 

“Quit that ! I think we can come to terms.” 

“Ah, you are coming around, are you ? You dis- 
play more wisdom than I gave you credit for. Per- 
haps experience has taught you that, too,” 

“Well what is it you want ?” he asked. 

“I want a home here, and what money I may need. 
You may introduce me as your housekeeper or your 
relative. I must have my own private apartments and 
I shall have nothing whatever to do with you.” 

“I suppose you must have all that you demand, but 
do not cut up any of your rustics or it will not be 
good for you,” he returned angrily. 

“Ha, ha ! You amuse me greatly. Cut up my rus- 
tics ! Pray what may they be ?” 

This will do ! I have had enough of your society for 
one day. If you are determined to stay, please make 
yourself invisible.” 

“Very well, monsieur, the feeling is mutual, I 
assure you.” 


36 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


She went up the staircase, laughing just loud 
enough for him to hear, and made her way to the 
suite she was to occupy. 


CHAPTER V. 


“And if we do but watch the hour, 

There never yet was human power 
Which could evade, if unforgiven, 

The patient search and vigil long 
Of him who treasures up a wrong/' 

When the door closed behind Cora Demar the 
smile faded from her face and was replaced by a look 
of intense hatred, as she took a survey of her sur- 
roundings. 

“So he is master here," she murmured, gazing 
from the window on the surrounding landscape, 
which would have made a good subject for an artist's 
brush. 

“A fine place this is, and I am lucky to have stepped 
in so nicely, but how I hate him!" she exclaimed, as 
her thoughts reverted to an incident two years pre- 
vious. 

It was in a little village on the coast of France that 
she had first met Philip Darkwood, or Gerald Seville, 
as he then called himself. It was there that she met 
and loved him. 

He was a wild sort of fellow, it being whispered 
around that he was a professional black-leg. Most 
of his time was spent in Paris. He had met Cora 
Demar and flirted with her, being struck by her 


38 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


beauty. He lingered by her side, making love to her, 
and winning her heart, only to break it. 

The time came when he told her he was going away 
forever and that he did not love her but was merely 
having a few weeks' amusement. He laughed at her 
when he left her, and that laugh seemed to turn her 
loved to hatred. 

In that moment she felt like killing him, had it 
been in her power to have done so. To herself she 
vowed to have revenge. She knew that he was going 
to leave on the night train. Something, she knew not 
what impelled her to follow him and see if he went 
alone. All sorts of odd ideas ran through her brain. 

So throwing a long dark cloak around her, she fol- 
lowed in his footsteps. Instead of going to the depot, 
he mde his way down a country road for a consider- 
able distance, until he came near a pile of jagged rocks, 
overlooking a deep precipice. Behind one of those 
rocks Cora Demar saw him crouch as if in hiding. 

Frightened at his strange behavior and not knowing 
what to think of it, she stepped behind a clump of 
bushes and waited in fear and trembling to see what he 
was going to do next. For some fifteen minutes she 
crouched there, when she heard the sound of horse's 
hoofs in the distance. On and on, nearer and nearer 
approached the horseman. 

As he was just opposite the clump of rocks there 
was a flash, a report, and the horse dashed on rider- 
less. Scared almost out of her wits, she felt as if she 
were paralyzed and unable to move, while she saw 
Gerald Seville rush out and take something from the 
man's pocket. 

Breaking through the spell that seemed to enfold 
her, she wildly rushed to the spot, exclaiming: 


THB DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


39 


“Gerald Seville, you are a murderer ! I saw you fire 
that shot, I saw him fall ! I shall have you brought to 
justice !” 

At the sudden appearance of Cora Demar, he 
started back with amazement, but a second more and 
he grabbed her by the arm with a vice -like grip. 

“Fool!” he hissed, “if you wanted to bring me to 
justice you should have remained in hiding and held 
your tongue. You have come to your doom, Cora 
Demar! You shall die too! Dead people tell no tales,” 
he said, as he laughed hoarsely. 

She tried to break his grasp, but she was as power- 
less as an infant. Holding her hands, while he stuffed 
a handkerchief in her mouth, he dragged her step by 
step to the edge of the precipice, and struggle as she 
might, she could not escape from the fiend who held 
her in a grasp of iron. 

“ Die you viper!” he hissed, as he pushed her over 
the jagged rocks into the darkness below. 

But Cora Demar did not meet her death as Seville 
thought. Nearly a day later she was found by several 
laborers, who recognized her and carried her hom#^- in 
an unconscious condition. 

For weeks she lay between life and death, but fate 
did not mean her to die, and she slowly mended and 
regained her strength. When she was able to sit up, 
she read an account of the murder of which she had 
been a witness, but the paper stated that the perpetra- 
tor of the crime was unknown and there was no clue 
to work upon to solve the mystery. Some were of the 
opinion that the man had committed suicide, but by 
others that theory was thought to be absurd. She 
alone knew. 

“Should she tell?” she asked herself. 


40 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


The desire within her for revenge was so strong 
that it grew to be a sort of mania with her. She 
wanted to track him to earth herself. 

She had an aunt living in Paris, and to Paris she 
went to learn something of Gerald Seville if she could. 
She learned that he had left Paris suddenly and 
started for America. She determined to follow him. 
Raising some money on some valuable jewels she had 
in her possession, she left Paris, telling no one of her 
destination. At last she landed in New York. As she 
found herself alone in the streets of a strange city she 
realized how mad she had been to attempt such a thing 
as to track Gerald Seville. But she was there, and she 
had to make the best of it. 

For nearly two years she struggled along, working 
first at one place and then at another for a mere pit- 
tance, scarcely enough to keep body and soul together. 
Povertyand privation had made her strong, and the 
Cora Demar that went to Darkwood Villa widely 
different from the innocent girl whom Gerald Seville 
had first met in the little seacoast village. 

One day she came across an article in the paper 
headed ‘‘A Sad Event.” It was a statement of the 
murder of John Darkwood, of Darkwood Villa, and of 
the sad death of Caro Darkwood. It went further stat- 
ing that Darkwood Villa had passed by will into the 
possession of Philip Darkwood, the murdered man’s 
nephew. 

A mist seemed to pass before her vision as she gazed 
on that name. It was the name of the man that had 
been murdered in France by Gerald Seville. 

During all the two years she had spent in New York, 
she found no clue to the whereabouts of Gerald Seville, 
and when the name of his victim appeared in connec- 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


41 


tion with another murder, a wild thought ran through 
her brain, and she determined to act upon it. 

She journeyed to Darkwood Villa, and had, unseen 
by him, gotten a glimpse of Philip Darkwood, and in 
seeing him, she saw Gerald Seville. 

At last the game was in her hands, and she deter- 
mined to make the most of it, so she presented herself 
at Darkwood Villa, with the result we have seen. 

Was it any wonder that she hated him? 

Was it any wonder that she wanted revenge? 


CHAPTER VI. 


‘Tf still thou dost retain 
The same ill habits, the same follies too, 
Gloss’d over only with a saintlike show, 
Still thou art bound to vice.” 


The following morning, Cora Demar received a note 
from Philip Darkwood requesting her presence in the 
library. 

“Well, monsieur, what do you wish?” she asked as 
she entered. 

“I wish to have a perfect understanding with you. 
How did you find me here in America^” 

“I have been looking for you for two years,” she 
replied. 

“Why?” he inquired shortly. 

“To have revenge,” she replied. 

“I want to know just how matters stand,” said 
Philip Darkwood. “What do you know?” 

“I know, Gerald Seville, that you are not the legal 
possessor of this property because you are no more a 
Darkwood than I am. The man you shot that night in 
France is the one whose place you are occupying. The 
only thing that puzzles me is how you palmed yourself 
off on old John Darkwood as Philip Darkwood, his 
nephew.” 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


43 


“O, that was easy enough,” he said. “You know he 
never saw his nephew, who was bom and reared 
abroad, both of his parents being buried in France. I 
see, Cora, that you are well informed, so I may as well 
make the best of it. Of course, as long as you are 
benefited you will keep your counsel.” 

“Certainly, my dear Gerald. I have been deprived 
too long of the good things of life not to take advan- 
tage of them when I have the opportunity.” 

“Do not call me ‘Gerald.' Remember, I am Philip 
Dark wood.” 

“Ah yes, I had forgotten and, — I say, did you 
murder John Darkwood yourself or did you hire some- 
one to do it for you ?” 

“I know nothing of it!” he cried, as he angrily 
turned and faced her. 

“How odd,” she remarked sarcastically. 

“Cora, you had better hold your tongue or I will 
pack you out of here in a hurry. Dare to breathe a 
suspicion that I was in any way connected with his 
murder and I will make you wish you had never been 
born.” 

“What would you do? Nothing! Because you 
dare not!” she hissed as she put aside her assumed 
gayety and stood before him an angry and revengeful 
woman. 

“Well, we will see. I perceive that we are at dag- 
ger’s points. But if you know when you are well off, 
you will do as I tell you.” 

“How was it that John Darkwood left all of his 
money to you?” 

“What business if that of yours, I would like to 
know.” 

“I surely have a right to know. I heard one of the 


44 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


servants speaking this morning about that Caro, and 
she said that her father cut her off in his will with a 
paltry sum, if she refused to marry you. She refused, 
did she? Wise girl! By the way,” she continued, 
“Did you not have a hand in making that will?” 

“The dogs!” he exclaimed. 

“O, I was bom with second sight, monsieur,” said 
Cora. 

“You are my evil genius, it appears, he said harshly, 
as he walked over to the window and stood gazing out. 

“Well, I hope you will remember that even evil 
geniuses must be clothed. I would like some money, 
if you please, as my wardrobe needs replenishing.” 

“Here, then, take this,” handing her a roll of bills. 

“Thanks to your promptness, — it shows your good 
sense. By the way, I must be furnished with a maid.” 

“What do you want with a maid?” he asked sul- 
lenly. 

“To perform a maids duties, to be sure. You wish 
you could put me out of your path, do you not?” she 
said tauntingly. 

“If I wished to do so, I could easily accomplish it,” 
he said. 

“Try it, if you dare, Gerald Seville, and within 
twenty- four hours you will be in the hands of the 
law.” 

“Ah, I am not such a fool as you might think me. 
Do you think I would enter a lion’s den without being 
sure of coming out again alive? Ah, no. I acted 
hastily once when I rushed out and accused you of 
murder, thus giving you the opportunity of removing 
me from your path. I have gained wisdom since those 
days, and a burnt child dreads the fire.’* 

“What have you done that you boast of feeling so 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


45 


secure?” asked the pseudo Philip Darkwood, turning 
to her with mingled anger and curiosity. 

'‘That is my affair,” she replied triumphantly. “Dare 
to raise a hand against me and you will find out to your 
sorrow.” 

“Come Cora, do not get so fiery, I have not at- 
tempted to harm you, have I?” 

“You did once, and who knows but what you may 
try it a second time. A person who has committed two 
cold-blooded murders would not stop at a third.” 

“Cora, do you realize what you are saying? Two 
murders?” he exclaimed menacingly. 

“That’s what I said,” she cooly replied. 

“You are determined to think that I had a hand in 
this murder?” he questioned angrily. 

“I would stake my life that you had not only a hand, 
but two hands in it, in fact, that you did it unaided,” 
she responded complacently, as she moved toward the 
door. 

“O well, what do I care what you think? Think- 
ing will not harm me, and as long as you can prove 
nothing you can think all you please. What, going 
already?” as she opened the door. 

“Yes, I am going. You asked me to come here to 
have a perfect understanding with me, and I think you 
have it. I know that you are a murderer twice over, 
and that you would try it again if you dared. You 
know that I could bring you to justice now if I wished 
to do so, and you know also, at least so I have told 
you, that my death will not save you from the law. 
What I have done is my own affair, but I have made 
myself secure, and that i senough for you to know she 
said, as she closed the door after her rather forcibly, 
leaving him standing in the middle of the floor gazing 


46 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


after her with an angry and puzzled look overspread- 
ing his countenance. 

‘‘What has she been up to, anyway?’' he muttered. 
“I believe she was telling the truth and has made her- 
self safe from me in some way. I would be half afraid 
to attempt it after this, but I will foil you yet, my fiery 
Cora. Only give me time, and I will settle with you,” 
he said to himself, ils he walked out of the long French 
window onto the veranda. 


CHAPTER VII. 


“No warning of the approaching flame ; 

Swiftly, like sudden death, it came: 

I loved the moment I beheld.’^ 

When Dr. Hal Westlake returned after attending to 
his professional duties, he was surprised and shocked 
to learn from his mother that his beautiful patient had 
lost all memory of her life before he had found her 
alone and helpless at the scene of the railroad accident. 
He had despaired of her life at one time, but his 
thoughts had not reverted to the existing calamity. 

“Hal, my son, do you think there is any hope of her 
regaining her memory ?'* 

“In time, perhaps, or the sight of some one or some- 
thing in her past life might bring remembrance. I will 
see what I can do. Is she awake, mother ?” 

“Yes, she is awake, and told me to tell you when you 
returned that she wanted to thank you for saving her 
life.” 

“I will see her, mother, if she is ready to receive 
me.” 

“Go rig htin, my son,” she answered, as her eyes fol- 
lowed him lovingly. 

He was her only child, and ever since the death of 


48 


THE DARK WOOD TRAGEDY 


her husband he had provided for his mother; and she 
often thanked God for so good a son. 

Tall, fair, with a noble brow, he presented a hand- 
some picture as he smilingly entered the presence of 
his interesting patient. Or so thought his patient to 
herself. 

“How is my little patient to-day?’' he inquired, as 
he seated himself close to her couch. 

“Much better,” she answered in a low voice. “And 
you are Dr. Westlake? You are the one who saved 
my life? How can I thank you?” 

“By getting well as soon as possible. I want no 
thanks but the joy of seeing you regain your health 
and strength,” he responded, gazing upon her with a 
tender look that thrilled every fibre of her being. 

“I feel that I can never thank you enough for your 
goodness. Dr. Westlake. I cannot understand why 
you should take so much interest in a perfect stranger,” 
she said, with a faraway look in her beautiful dark 
eyes. 

“Can you not? Perhaps some day you will under- 
stand,” he answered in a low tone. 

What was the matter with her, she wondered. 

She felt as if a new life had taken possession of her. 

When Dr. Westlake ceased speaking she longed to 
hear his voice again. 

“Dr. Westlake, did your mother tell you that I 
could remember nothing? Not even who I am?'’ 

“Yes, my dear child, but you will remember after 
awhile. Can you recall nothing at all? Do you not 
remember the accident?” 

“No, I cannot recall it,” she half sobbed. 

“Wait a moment,” he cried, as a sudden thought 
struck him, and arising he left the room hurriedly. 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


49 


In a few moments he returned with a package in 
his hand. Seating himself again, he opened it. 

'‘Do you not remember having this money about 
you?” he asked, as he passed her the roll of notes. 
“My mother found them on your person when you 
were first brought here and put them away until you 
had recovered.” 

“Did I have these notes ?” I believe I do remember 
having some money, but where did I get it?” she 
mused, placing her hand to her head. 

“And,” interrupted Dr. Westlake, here is something 
else mother found wrapped with the money.” As he 
spoke he passed her the gold sleevebutton. 

She looked at it a moment, while a wave of emotion 
passed swiftly over her face. She seemed to be strug- 
gling with memory an instant and then — 

“Oh papa, papa!” she cried. “Oh Dr. Westlake, I 
remember now, I remember all!” she exclaimed, her 
voice filled with emotion. 

“Is your papa dead, little girl?” he asked tenderly, 
taking her hand in his. 

“Yes, papa is dead,” she sadly answered. 

“Did that sleevebutton belong to him?” pointing to 
the button which she still held in her hand. 

“No, no,” she answered, looking at it with horror- 
filled eyes. 

“You will tell me who you are now, won’t you, so 
that I may inform your friends of your whereabouts ?” 
said he looking at her expectantly. 

“I have no friends Dr. Westlake. None at all !” she 
replied sadly looking out of the window onto the green 
fields beyond. 

Do not say that, little girl. You always have a 
friend while I live. You know that, do you not ?” look- 
ing at her reproachfully. 


50 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“Ah yes, you have proved yourself a friend indeed. 
Do not think me ungrateful, Dr. Westlake, I beg of 
you. I could not bear that,” she cried. 

“Would it make so much difference to you what I 
think?” asked he, bending tenderly over her. 

As she realized how strong had been her words, a 
^low flush spread over her charming face, which a few 
moments before had been pale from her illness. When 
he asked her the question she knew that it would make 
a great difference, but somehow or other her lips re- 
fusd to answer. 

He saw the flush and her hesitation, and hope sprung 
lip within his heart. 

“Would it?” he asked again, taking her hand in his 
strong right one and pressing it gently. 

She felt that she must answer, but what should she 
say? Her pulses were throbbing wildly and she felt 
that she was in heaven. 

With an effort she broke through her shyness and 
answered : “Yes,” then burst into a storm of sobs. 

“Darling,” he cried, as he fell upon his knees beside 
her couch, “I did not mean to let you know of this just 
yet, but I could not help it. Little girl, I love you. I 
have loved you from the first moment I saw you lying 
white and motionless there beside the track. I have 
watched over you tenderly ever since. You said a 
short time ago that you could not understand why I 
took such an interest in you. I told you that sometime 
you would know. Now you know it was love that 
prompted me to do all this — pure, true, honest love, 
such as I have never felt for any other woman. You 
are not angry with me for telling you this ?” he asked 
lovingly stroking back a few waving hairs from her 
forehead. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


51 


“No,” she replied in a low tone; “not angry, but 
glad,” and she looked up at him, the tears still wet 
upon her curling lashes. 

“You think you will learn to care for me, then,” he 
eagerly asked. 

“No,” she answered positively. 

He drew back, and his face became pale with emo- 
tion at that one little word from her, he loved better 
than his life. 

“I might have known that you would not !” he cried 
in anguish. 

“Hush !” she exclaimed in a low tone : “why did you 
not let me finish. No, I do not think I will learn to 
care for you, because — I do already, and there is noth- 
ing to be learned.” 

“Sweetheart! Do you really mean it ? Am I indeed 
so blessed ? What have I done that I should attain so 
rich a reward?” he asked in ecstacy. 

“You are so good and noble that I could not help 
loving you. Dr. Westlake.” 

“Do not say that,” he interrupted. “Say Hal. 
Won’t you, dear?” 

“Well, then. Hal, I love you,” she whispered in 
tones scarcely audible. 

“God bless you for those words !” he reverently ex- 
claimed as he stooped and pressed a kiss on her lips. 

Does any one ever forget the ecstacy of a first kiss 
of love? 

In all the long after years it remains a pleasant mem- 
ory. No matter how many may succeed it, it is still 
treasured in the mind as a blissful event, — ^the time 
when lips met lips in the first perfect love-kics. 

Caro Darkwood never forgot in all the dark after- 
days, the moment that Hal Westlake’s lips met hers in 
that first blissful kiss. 


52 


THE) DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


■ Her soul seemed to leave her body and enter para- 
dise as she felt the clasp of his dear arms around her 
and realized that he loved her even as she loved him in 
the first moment she had raised her eyes and beheld 
him enter the room. 

“Do you love me so much, Hal ?” she softly asked, as 
she placed her white arms around his neck. 

“Do I ? Let me answer in the words of the poet : I 
love so well that, 

“Should they take my soul into paradise 
And tell me I must be content without you, 

I would weary them so with my lonesome cries 
And ceaseless questions I’d ask about you. 

That they would open the gates and set me free. 
Or else they would find you and bring you to me.” 

“Is not the sentiment beautiful ?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“And you will always love me like that?” 

“Always. 

“ ‘The stars shall fall and the saints be weeping 

Ere I ceased to love you, my queen, my queen.’ ” 

“Ah, I am so happy ! Too happy !” she cried, as she 
drew one long breath of ecstatic bliss. 

“You shall always be happy if I can make you so,” 
he tenderly replied. “You will be my wife when you 
have fully recovered your health, will you not, my 
darling ?” 

As he spoke, a shade passed over her face as she re- 
membered her oath to avenge her father’s murder. 

“I forgot!” she exclaimed. “Oh Hal, I cannot be 
your wife 1 I should not have let you tell me of your 
love — I should not have listened, but I forgot,” she 
sobbed. 

“Why can you not marry me, my darling?” he 
asked in alarm. 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


53 


Because my life is dedicated to a purpose. I have 
made an oath, and until that oath is accomplished I can 
marry no one.’’ 

“Tell me of your life,” he said in a rather listless 
tone, as he realized that she was determined. 

“I cannot tell you everything, but I will tell you my 
name if you will tell no one. It is Caro Darkwood. I 
left my home, Darkwood Villa, under peculiar circum- 
stances, of which I will not speak. I have a mission to 
accomplish and I mean to return in disguise. When 
I accomplish that, if you still care to marry me, I will 
be your wife. 

“This may all seem strange to you now, but some 
day perhaps you will understand ever\Thing, Trust 
me„ and I believe all will come right. But I request 
you to speak of this to no one. 

“As soon as I am able to go about, I will leave you 
and return to Darkwood Villa.” 

“Where is Darkwood Villa?” he asked. 

“About forty miles from here, on the banks of the 
Hudson.” 

“I will trust you, Caro, and as you are determined on 
your course I suppose it would be useless for me to try 
to persuade you. Believe this — I shall love you always, 
and if you need a friend and protector you will always 
find one in me. And now, little girl, good-night and 
God bless you. We will speak of this another time, 
and he stooped and pressed a kiss on her rosebud 
mouth. 

“Good night, dear Hal,” she responded, returning 
his kiss, and casting a loving look at his manly, honest 
face. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


'*But still her lips refused to say “Farewell !” 

For in that word — that fatal word — howe’er 
We promise — hope — ^believe — there breathes despair.” 


You are determined to leave us, are you Caro?” 
asked Dr. Westlake a few days after the conversation 
between his patient and himself concerning her de- 
parture. 

“Yes, Hal, I must go. Believe me, nothing would 
give me greater happiness than to stay here forever. 
It almost breaks my heart to leave you,” she sobbed. 

“Caro, darling, why must you go? Why not stay 
here with me as my loved and cherished wife ?” 

“Oh Hal, I wish I could! but as I told you before, 
I have work to do. Perhaps it would be best if you 
forget me.” 

“Hush, my darling I I could never do that. As long 
as we both live, I shall love you and you only. Prom- 
ise me, that when this work you spoke of is finished 
that you will be my wife. Will you, Caro ?” he plead- 
ingly asked. 

“Yes, Hal, I will promise you that ; but it may be a 
long time and it may be never. I am a lone girl, and I 
must accomplish this by myself. I have sworn that I 
would do it, and I cannot break an oath.” 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGKDY 


55 


“Neither would I, but were you wise when you made 
it, Caro? Do you not think that you would be hap- 
pier had you not done so?’’ 

“No, I think not. I could not have been at rest had 
I not done so, and I will never be happy until I have 
solved the mystery surrounding my father’s murder.” 

“Your father’s murder! Why, child, when did it 
happen? I do not remember reading of it in the 
papers,” exclaimed Dr. Westlake in surprise. 

“I do not know whether it was in the papers or not. 
I have not seen a paper since I left Darkwood Villa,” 
she answered sorrowfully. 

“And this work you spoke about has to do with 
that?” 

“Yes. I made an oath over the dead body of my 
father to avenge his murder. I did not mean to tell 
you all this, but perhaps it is just as w^ell.” 

“Caro, I am afraid you have a difficult task before 
you. Won’t you let me help you?” 

“I, and I alone, must do it, Hal ; but if I ever need 
your assistance I will let you know\ Do not seek me 
until you hear from me, because I will not be known 
there as Caro Darkwood. I have not decided as yet 
how I will manage, but I feel that if God is a just God, 
He will help me.” 

“And you are going in the morning?” he inquired 
sadly. 

“Yes, I cannot commence too soon. Oh Hal ! How 
my heart aches at the thought of parting from you.” 

“Won’t you let me see you safely to your destina- 
tion ?” 

“No, I would rather go alone.” 

“But, Caro, darling, am I never to hear from you ?” 
he anxiously asked. 


56 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“I will tell you what I will do. I will write to you 
every fortnight to let you know I am well, but you 
must not answer, because that would interfere with my 
plans.’’ 

‘‘Very well ; I suppose I must abide by your decision. 
But, little girl, those are hard terms, do you not think 
so?” 

“It may seem hard to you, dear, but I feel that I am 
pursuing the wisest course.” 

The following morning found Caro ready to take her 
departure. She had arisen quite early and wandered 
out into the garden and there Dr. Westlake found her 
among the roses. 

Hal never forgot the picture she made as she saun- 
tered here and there plucking the fragrant blossoms. 
A flush stained her face as she looked up and beheld 
her lover gazing at her with his soul in his eyes, but 
her pallor returned as she thought that in a few hours 
she would be far away from him. 

Now, that the time had arrived when she was to 
leave Rose Lodge, as the home of Dr. Westlake was 
called, she almost felt like giving up her purpose of 
returning to Darkwood and give to Hal Westlake the 
right to protect her. But with those thoughts the face 
of her father seemed to pass before her vision, and she 
chided herself for her weakness. 

“Vengeance first, and then love,” she murmured to 
herself. 

It was hard, very hard, when the moment of part- 
ing came. Tears filled her eyes as she bade Mrs. 
Westlake good-by. If she had been Caro’s own 
mother, she could not have been kinder than she had 
proved herself while nursing her back to health, and 
if Caro had been her own daughter she could not have 
loved her more. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


57 


But the parting with Hal — that was worse than all. 
It was in the garden that he took her in his arms and 
held her there as if he never meant to let her go from 
him. 

‘'Oh, Caro, darling, I cannot let you jo! I have a 
presentiment that if you leave Rose Lodge some evil 
will befall you.” 

“Oh Hal do not make it so hard for me! Do you 
think I want to leave you? If I had not made that 
oath over the body of my father, I would let every- 
thing go, and be happy as your wife. I have even 
been tempted to break it, in my weakness, but I would 
not be happy if I did.” 

“I must keep my oath, Hal, no matter what happens. 
And now kiss me good-by, dear, and put me out of 
your arms, for I feel that I have not strength to leave 
them of my own accord. Oh Hall I wonder if any 
one on earth is so miserable as I?” she moaned, sob- 
bing against his breast. 

“Yes, I am. It breaks my heart to see you go. I 
cannot say goody-bye — I cannot I” he exclaimed miser- 
ably. 

“Then, dear, I must be brave and say it for you. 
Good-bye, dearest Hal ! Good-bye, and may God bless 
you for your goodness and love to a lonely girl. Trust 
me, dear, and sometime I may be able to come to you 
and say, “Take me I” 

“God grant it,” he murmured fervently, as he 
pressed kiss after kiss on her cherry lips, while the 
tears filled his eyes. 

“Now, Hal, come, or we will be too late for the 
train,” she said, faltering, as she tried to keep back the 
sobs that seemed to choke her. 

He seated her in his buggy, and taking up the reins 
started out for the station. 


58 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


Little was said between them. They both felt that 
their hearts were bursting with grief and when at last 
they reached their destination there was little time for 
words because the train was ready to start. 

A hand-clasp, a long, sad look into each others 
eyes a final good-bye spoken in low tones and they 
parted, not to meet again for many days. 

All the way home Hal Westlake drove as in a dream. 
He felt that some evil would happen to Ins darling, and 
was sorry that he did not disobey her wishes and see 
her safely to Darkwood Villa. 

Something seemed to tell him that their parting 
would be a long one, perhaps forever, and the misery 
that this thought gave him caused him to look haggard 
and worn. 

As he reached Rose Lodge he braced himself up. He 
did not wish his mother to know that the parting had 
affected him so, but he could not hide his feelings 
from her sharp eyes, although they were growing old 
and dim. 

“Cheer up, my son,” she said. “It will all come 
out right sometime; only trust in God. I, too, was 
grieved to part from her. I, too, loved her.” 

“Who could help loving her?” he murmured, as he 
went into the library. He wished to be alone with his 
misery. 

And Caro? 

She could hardly keep from crying aloud as the train 
bore her away from all she loved on earth, and she kept 
her head turned toward the window to keep the other 
passengers from seeing her tear-dimmed eyes. 

About ten miles from Rose Lodge she alighted at a 
small town, in which she hoped to purchase such arti- 
cles as she needed to disguise herself. 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


59 


She meant to apply for a position at Darkwood Villa. 

“Would she be successful?” she asked herself again 
and again. She must by some means obtain free acess 
to her old home, she told herself, and she prayed that 
she might not be disappointed in the working of the 
plans she had mapped out for herself. 

She spent some little time securing the necessary 
articles and at last having completed her purchases, she 
once more boarded the cars which were to carry her 
back to Darkwood Villa, the home she instinctively 
felt to be hers even then. She could not rid herself of 
the conviction that her father was not the author of 
that will which made Philip Darkwood his heir, cut- 
ting off his own child with a few dollars. 


CHAPTER IX. . 


“Why dost thou call my sorrows up afresh 
My father’s name brings tears into my eyes.” 

Cora Demar was lounging on a divan in the draw- 
ing-room at Darkwood when the housekeeper entered. 

“Mr. Philip told me to see that a maid was adver- 
tised for, ma’am. I have not advertised for one yet, 
but there is a person here applying for a position that 
I think would suit you, and save you further trouble.” 

“Where is the person?” inquired Cora. 

“Outside ma’am. There is no other place where we 
need an extra servant, so I thought you might hire her 
as your maid. She is a neat-looking sort of body.” 

“Send her in, and I will see what is to be done. I 
would be glad if she would suit me, because I need a 
maid immediately.” 

A few minutes later the housekeeper ushered in a 
slight figure, dressed in a black gown. 

It would be impossible to tell the color or expression 
of her eyes, as they were hidden by a large pair of blue 
goggles. Her hair was very light, almost approach- 
ing a cottony effect, while her complexion was pale, 
with no color whatever. In her ears were a pair of 
large hoop earrings, and taking her all through she 
made a rather odd-looking spectacle when presented 
by the housekeeper as the person who wanted a place. 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


6l 


“You wish employment asked Cora, eyeing her 
curiously. 

“Yes, ma’am,” answered she in a quick tone. 

“Well, what can you do? Do you think you could 
fill the position of maid!” 

“Yes, ma’am,” in the same quick tone. 

“Well, I believe I will try you. What is your 
name ?” inquired Cora, wondering what sort of a name 
the odd-looking creature claimed as her own. 

“Dora Dene, ma’am.” 

“Dora Dene? Not a bad name. Why do you wear 
those large glasses, Dora?” 

“My eyes, ma’am, are very weak and I can’t stand the 
light. I’ve worn glasses for years. If I take them off 
for a minute the light blinds me.” 

“You can see well through them ?” 

“Oh yes, ma’am. My eyes feel all right as long as 
I keep the glasses on.” 

“Show her to a room,” said Cora, addressing the 
housekeeper, who stood awaiting orders. “And, Dora, 
when you have laid off your hat you can come to me 
and I will tell you what I wish you to do,” addressing 
the new maid. 

“Very well, ma’am,” she replied as she followed the 
housekeeper out of the room and up the stairs leading 
to the servants apartments. 

“Now, Dora — I think you said your name was Dora 
didn’t you?” questioned the housekeeper. 

“Yes, ma’am ; Dora Dene.” 

“Well, Dora, I will leave you to fix your things up a 
bit. You have your clothes in your satchel?” 

“Yes, ma’am, all that I have. I haven’t many 
ma’am. I am a poor orphan.” 

“Poor child, I am sorry for you. I hope you will 
suit your new mistress.” 


62 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“Who is the lady that engaged me?’' inquired Dora 
curiously. 

“Miss Demar, Mr. Philip Darkwood’s cousin, so he 
said. It seems that she is a second or third cousin, or 
something like that, and as she had no relatives, her 
mother having died a short while ago, Philip Dark- 
wood, the master, sent for her to come and live at 
Darkwood, but I don’t like her very much,” said the 
housekeeper in confidence. “She is well enough when 
everything goes right, but I wouldn’t like to cross her,” 
continued she. “You had better go down and receive 
orders, Dora, and then when you come back I will tell 
you where to put your things.” 

“Very well.” 

Looking into the mirror to see that her hair was in 
order, she descended the stairs and again entered the 
presence of Cora Demar. 

She received her orders, and was told that she 
need not commence her duties until the following 
morning and could rest for the remainder of the day. 

She returned to her room and found the house- 
keeper awaiting her. 

“Now, Dora, you can place your clothes in this 
bureau,” she said kindly. 

“Has Mr. Philip Darkwood been master here long ?” 
asked Dora. 

“O no, only since poor master was murdered. I sup- 
pose you heard of that?” 

“Yes, ma’am; something of it.” 

“Didn’t he have any children, — ^the man that was 
murdered?” inquired Dora. 

“Yes, he had a daughter, but she refused to obey the 
terms of the will her father made, and was cut off with 
a few dollars. She left Darkwood suddenly, but, poor 
thing, she was killed in a railroad accident and they 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 63 

brought her poor mangled remains back and placed 
them beside her father.” 

Dora Dene gave a start as the housekeeper imparted 
this piece of information to her. 

“How did they recognize her” she asked nervously. 

“By the dress she wore, which was a black one, and 
they also found her satchel close by. But her features 
were unrecognizable, poor dear. We all loved her,” 
she continued, wiping a tear from her eye. 

When left to herself, Dora Dene went to the window 
and gazed out with a faraway look. 

“How strange,” she murmured. 

“How strange that Caro Darkwood is supposed to 
be dead and buried. But perhaps it is better so, for 
no one would be apt to suspect me. 

“Certainly no one here would recognize me in this 
disguise. Ugh ! how I hate these old glasses, she said, 
taking them off and looking into the mirror; “but I 
must wear them. It is well that my hair was cut off 
during my illness, or I would have had to have it cut 
off to make this wig fit nicely. 

“Who would recognize in Dora Dene the girl who 
left Darkwood Villa a month ago? I have had better 
success so far than I expected. But who is this woman 
who claims to be the cousin of Philip Darkwood? I 
never heard of such a person in all the two years that 
Philip Darkwood has lived at the Villa. Perhaps it is 
some relative who lived in France, because that is 
where Philip was bom and reared, so I have heard 
papa say. I must find out. 

“It seems odd, that in so short a time after he 
came into possession he should be hunting up distant 
cousins and giving them a home. It is more likely that 
she hunted him up, than he, her. He is not so gen- 
erous as that. 


64 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“Mystery seems to heap on mystery.” she continued 
to herself. ‘Philip Darkwood is a villain and who 
knows but that this woman is an accomplice. At any 
rate, I must keep my eyes and ears open. And I must 
find the rnate to this sleeve-button,” pulling it from 
her pocket. “I am almost certain that Philip Dark- 
wood possessed a pair of buttons like this, but I must 
make sure. And I mean to search this house for the 
will that I feel sure papa made a year ago. As for the 
will that gave my inheritance to Philip Darkwood, I do 
not believe it genuine, in spite of what that lawyer 
said. 

“Hal was right when he said I had a difficult task 
before me, but I will succeed; I will!” she exclaimed 
with decision. “And when I have obtained proof of 
your villainy, Phil Darkwood, beware ! 

“I had half a mind to reveal myself to the house- 
keeper, but after she told me that I was supposed to be 
dead and buried I thought it best to remain Dora Dene 
to her as well as the rest of the household. 

“And now I think I shall go out in the grounds and 
get a little air, and visit the spot where poor papa was 
murdered. How long it seems since I left here, al- 
though it has only been a little while — one short 
month. And how much has happened in that time. 
Who would have thought when I left Darkwood Villa 
and boarded that train, that I was going to meet my 
fate? 

“O Hal, how I love you I” she murmured to herself, 
as her thoughts reverted to the time she spent at Rose 
Lodge with Mrs. Westlake and her son. 

“I am glad that the accident happened, although some 
poor souls lost their lives, but for myself I am glad, be- 
cause had it not been for that I would never have seen 
dear Hal and loved him. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


65 


“I wonder what they are doing at Rose Lodge 
now ?” she mused, as she walked through the grounds. 

Before she fully realized how far she had gone, she 
found herself at the lodge gate, and saw the lodge- 
keeper’s children playing around the steps of the lodge. 
They looked up curiously at the new comer, and she 
went up to them and patted them on the head. 

'‘Who are you ?” asked the boy, while the girl look- 
ed on in wonder. 

‘T am Dora Dene, a maid who just came to-day,” she 
answered, amused at the odd way the boy asked the 
question. 

"Well, Dora Dene, you mustn’t pat our heads that 
way, because Miss Caro used to do that, and now she’s 
dead, and we don’t want anybody else to do it.” 

A tear came into her eye as she felt that even these 
little tots had not forgotten her. 

"You loved this Miss Caro?” she asked. 

"O yes, we loved her. She used to give us lots of 
nice things.” 

"Wont you let me give you nice things some time, 
too ?” 

"Yes, I guess so, because you seem so nice, but you 
ain’t pretty, like Miss Caro.” 

She could not suppress a smile at the boy’s candor, 
but the tears again filled her eyes as she came to the 
spot where she beheld her father on that night he was 
found lying in a pool of blood. 

She saw it all again as if it were yesterday, and 
again she swore to have vengeance on her father’s 
murderer. 

On her way to the house she passed Philip Dark- 
wood, and a shudder passed over her frame at the 
mere sight of him. She almost imagined that she could 
see blood stains on his hands, and could hear her fath- 
er’s voice crying "Vengeance!” 


CHAPTER X. 


^‘Fields are full of eyes, and woods have ears ; 

For this the wise are ever on their guard.’" 

Several days passed after the arrival of Dora Dene 
at Darkwood before anything special happened. 

She had discharged her duties in a satisfactory man- 
ner, and Cora Demar decided to keep her in her em- 
ploy. One day, having completed what little she had 
to do, she was standing at the window of her sleeping 
apartment when a carriage drove up and the lawyer 
that had read her father’s will alighted and ran up the 
veranda steps. 

“That man !” murmured Dora Dene. “What can he 
want here? I never did like his looks. He must be 
on quite intimate terms with the new master. He never 
came here much when papa was living.” 

“And he seemed so positive that papa made that 
will. What if he is in league with Philip Darkwood. 
Some men would do anything for money, and why not 
he? I never thought of that before, but who can say 
that it is not an inspiration ? At any rate, I shall con- 
tinue to think so until I find out otherwise. I shall be- 
lieve everybody that has anything to do with Philip 
Darkwood to be dishonest until I find them to be hon- 
est. 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGRDY 67 

“I wonder if I could manage to overhear their con- 
versation without being seen. I shall try it.” 

Looking out into the corridor to see if the coast was 
clear, she cautiously made her way down the staircase 
toward the library, where she instinctively felt that 
she would find Philip Dark wood and the lawyer. 

She was not mistaken, for as she approached the 
door, she heard low voices within. 

Stooping and placing her ear to the keyhole, she 
could not at first catch all their words, but she could 
understand that they were talking about some money 
promised the lawyer by Philip Darkwood. Presently 
she heard the lawyer exclaim in a louder tone : 

'‘Darkwood, I want it immediately. I have some 
debts of honor to settle and I must have the money 
now.” 

“Good Lord, man,” she heard Phil Darkwood ans- 
wer, “you have had enough out of me already for your 
services. Do you want to drain me of every cent ?” 

“Certainly not. But I must have the money. I do 
not like to threaten you, but if it is not forthcoming, 
you know the consequences.” 

“I suppose there is nothing left for me to do but to 
fork it over,” returned Darkwood. 

Dora could stop to hear no more, for at that moment 
she heard footsteps approaching, and she just had time 
to reach the staircase unseen, when, looking back, she 
saw Cora Demar emerge from the opposite direction 
and pause at the door she had just been forced to leave 
in order to escape detection. 

“Why is she listening?” asked Dora of herself. 
“Does she suspect him of something underhand, too? 
And that lawyer — what services has he rendered Phil 
Darkwood that he can command all the money he 
wants at will ? Oh, if I am on the right track. 


68 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


‘‘I am becoming a veritable detective/^ she mur- 
mured as she retraced her steps to her own room. She 
saw the lawyer leave about a half hour later, and short- 
ly afterward Philip Darkwood jumped into his buggy 
and drove off. Directly she was summoned to her mis- 
tress’s boudoir. 

“Dora, I want you to go down to the library and 
bring me a book up here to read. There is one in par- 
ticular that I would like you to bring if you can find 
it. It is called ‘The Fate of Annersley.’ I looked for 
it the other day, but I was in a hurry and did not come 
across it. Take your time and you may be successful.” 

“Very well, ma’am,” answered Dora. 

How well she knew the names of all the books in the 
library, but very few had she ever read. She knew 
that the book that her mistress desired was on the list, 
but after running her eyes over all the titles, she failed 
to see “The Fate of Annersley” among them. 

Several books were lying loosely on the top shelf, 
but she could not see their titles. 

Drawing a chair up, she climbed upon it and with its 
aid just managed to reach the top shelf. She looked 
at several of the books, but none of them proved to be 
the one she wanted. There was one more, and as she 
picked it up she exclaimed : 

“Ah, here it is at last ! Strange that the very book I 
was sent for should be piled away up here at the top. 
How dusty it is,” shaking it out to get the dust off the 
edges of the leaves. 

“But what is this?” she said, as a paper fluttered 
from between the leaves and fell to the floor. Replac- 
ing the other books, she descended from the chair with 
“The Fate of Annersly” clasped in her hands. 

She stooped to pick the paper from the floor, and as 


THE) DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 69 

she did so she sprang back, with a smothered exclama- 
tion. 

“What is this,” she cried hoarsely. “The last will 
and testament of John Darkwood.” 

“Papa’s will! Papa’s will!” she gasped, as she 
opened it. 

“Oh, I knew it ! I knew it ! This is the will he made 
when he spoke of it to me. And that will that made 
Phil Darkwood the possessor of all this wealth that be- 
longs to me is a fraud. But he did not know where 
this one was hidden or he would have destroyed it. 

Ah, I was sure that papa had not forgotten his only 
child. 

“He leaves me everything unconditionally. There 
must be a duplicate of this in the hands of the lawyer, 
but the one that drew up this is dead, and that man — 
his successor — stood up and told me that, my father 
made such a will as that. 

“Papa never had a hand in the making of it, I am 
sure, but it was a clever forgery, and that lawyer is a 
colleague of Phil Darkwood. 

“Oh, heaven ! Is everybody dishonest?” she cried to 
herself. 

“And this will — I must hide it somewhere until I 
obtain the proofs of Phil Darkwood’s villainy.” 

She heard a footstep outside in the corridor and just 
had time to thrust the precious document into her bos- 
om when the door opened and Phil Darkwood, who 
had returned in the meantime, entered the library. 

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, as he 
saw that the maid was rather excited. 

“I came for a book, sir, for my mistress,” she ans- 
wered nervously. 

“Why in the deuce can not she let me know when 
she wants a book instead of sending every Tom, Dick, 


70 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


and Harry to rummage through my belongings. Did 
you get what you wanted ?” he asked, surlily. 

“Yes, sir,"’ she answered, in a voice that she could 
not prevent from sounding triumphant to save her life. 

“Well, as you seem so glad that you have, you had 
better get out as soon as possible, as I have some let- 
ters to write and I do not want to be delayed.” 

Dora Dene was glad to get away, but her heart was 
much lighter than it had been since she came to Dark- 
wood. 

In her bosom was the precious paper that she felt 
sure was safe. 

She had found “The Fate of Annersly,” and in find- 
ing it had also found the fate of Caro Darkwood, so 
she told herself, as she delivered the book to Cora De- 
mar. 

“Why, Dora, you are a jewel. You soon found it,” 
she remarked. 

As soon as she was alone Dora took the will from 
her bosom and read it again. 

“Where shall I put it for safekeeping?” she asked 
herself. 

“I cannot make this known until I have brought 
Phil Darkwood to justice, for I believe him to be the 
murderer of my father. I am as confident of it as if I 
had seen him do it with my own eyes. And he did it 
to secure his wealth. 

“But I can do nothing until I have proof. I must find 
that missing sleeve-button. If I could only have a 
chance to get into his room. The housekeeper is the 
only one who has access to it. What if I reveal muself 
to her. Shall I, or shall I not ?” 

“Ah, I know what I will do with this will. I shall 
bury it until I am ready to claim my rights. If I keep 


THE DARKWOOD tragedy 


71 


it about my person it might get lost, or if anything hap- 
pened to me it might be found and destroyed.” 

Acting upon this impulse, she quickly left the house, 
and selecting a spot at the farthest extremity of the 
grounds, she took a pocket knife and began to dig 
away the dirt at the foot of a large oak. She placed 
the will in a small tin box which she had amongst her 
effects, and placing the box in the hole she had dug, 
covered it with the dirt. 

“Ah, that is safe now, I know,” she said, as she 
arose, and as she had no duties to perform for several 
hours, she decided to take a walk down the road — a 
walk she had taken many times before in the dear old 
days when her father was living. 

She had gone quite a long distance, and was lost in 
a reverie when — 

“Look out, there!” 

She turned at the sound of the voice, and at the same 
time saw a horse and his rider bearing down upon her. 
It was Phil Darkwood, and he seemed to have lost con- 
trol of his horse, else he would have turned his course. 

Dora Dene, frightened too much to move when she 
saw her danger, fainted from fright and nervousness. 
Philip Darkwood controlled his horse with an effort 
and jumped to the ground. 

Her fall had jarred the glasses from her eyes, and 
as Philip Darkwood looked at her face, he gave a start, 
exclaimed to himself. “But the hair !” 

As he spoke he bent down, and placing his hand on 
the light wig which she wore he plucked it off, and un- 
derneath he found the dark hair which was Carols 
own. 

“Well, of all things holy ! Caro Darxwood alive and 
here at Darkwood Villa in the disguise of a ladies' 


72 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


maid, and all the time I thought she was dead 
buried. 

What does it mean ? 

‘^Heavens! Suppose she has found a clue?^' 


CHAPTER XI. 


“Miss not the occasion.” 


As Philip Darkwood gave expression to the last 
thought that rushed through his mind, he was at a loss 
to know what course to pursue. 

Should he leave her there and make some future 
plans to remove her from his path or should he act im- 
mediately ? 

After a little thought, he decided to run no chances. 
Taking a bottle from his pocket, he saturated his hand- 
kerchief with the contents and placed it to the nostrils 
of the already unconscious girl. 

“I guess that will keep you from coming to,” he 
mumbled to himself. “I shall have an easy job of this, 
for no one knows that Caro Darkwood is alive — and 
she will not be much longer. 

“I have gone this far in the game, and I don^t mean 
to let a chit of a girl like her down me.” 

He took her up, and placing her before him on his 
horse, galloped off at a rapid pace down a little-used 
road that led direct to the Hudson. After about fif- 
teen minutes he drew rein as he approached the banks 
of the river. 

Peering cautiously around, and seeing no sign of 
life near, he took the body of the unconscious girl in 


74 


THB DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


his arms and walked a few yards toward the edge of 
the water. He hesitated for an instant, as if unde- 
cided, but in another moment he gave the body a fling 
into the water, turned quickly, mounted his horse and 
galloped like mad back in the direction of Darkwood 
Villa. 

“Oh! Philip Darkwood, have you added another 
crime to those already marked down against you ? 

Murderer that you are, are you too much of a cow- 
ard to stand by and see your victim drown? 

He was almost at the gates of the villa before he 
slackened his speed. No one, he told himself, would 
think that he had a hand in the disappearance of the 
so-called Dora Dene when it was discovered that she 
was missing. 

And even if they should advertise, which they would 
not be likely to do, in the interest of a common maid, 
they could learn nothing, for no one save the people 
here at the villa will have heard of such a person. 

“Ah, 1 am safe,” he muttered. “If that lawyer was 
out of my way and I could get rid of Cora, I would 
have nothing to fear. I have not, anyway, as long as 
I can supply them with plenty of cash. 

“I believe Caro was searching for something that 
day I came across her in the library. Great guns! 
Suppose she was looking for that will. But what if she 
was? She could not find it if I could not, and I have 
searched every hole and corner for it. 

“It would not be nice for that to turn up. It would 
put me in a pretty hole. I must keep that devil of a 
Cora out of my things, for she is as sly as a cat. You 
would think she had a claim here by the way she 
queens it,” he mumbled as if addressing someone. 

Several hours later Cora broke into the library and 
confronted Phil Darkwood. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


75 


^‘Do you know anything of Dora Dene, my maid? I 
have been waiting for her for hours, and I sent the 
servants to look for her and she cannot be found. Do 
you know where she is?” ? 

*‘I? What do I know about Dora Dene? Do you 
mean that crazy looking affair you sent down here 
this morning for a book ?” 

mean Dora Dene, my maid. Where is she ? Have 
you sent her off?” 

“I tell you I know nothing of Dora Dene. I dare 
say she has gotten disgusted with your tantrums and 
taken French leave.” 

“I dare say that you have insulted her with your 
coarse remarks and she has left on account of it. She 
was more of a lady than you are a gentleman, I can 
tell you that, if she was only a maid,” fired Cora, who 
had lost her temper entirely, as she had lost her maid. 

“Oh, go along, and do not bother me, Cora! Get 
another one, if you wish. Let her go !” 

“I believe you discharged her, that I do!” she ex- 
claimed as she left him sitting by the window compla- 
cently smoking a cigar, as if he had a clear conscience. 

They were all under the impression that the maid 
had left of her own accord, but they could not imagine 
why she did not take her satchel and clothes. They 
were not many, to be sure, but all the more reason why 
she should take them. All liked her and were sorry 
that she had gone, but Cora secured another maid, and 
things went on as usual, and all that remained of Dora 
Dene was a memory. 


CHAPTER XII. 


“How can I wait until you come to me? 

The once fleet mornings linger by the way ; 
Their sunny smiles touched with malicious glee 
At my unrest, they seem to pause and play 
Like truant children, while I sigh and say — 
How can I wait?” 


A month, and still no word from my darling! She 
promised to write every fortnight, and here two have 
passed and not one word — one line. What does it 
mean? 

Has anything happened to her ? 

“I had strange forebodings that evil would befall 
her. What if she is in trouble and needs me?” 

Thus mused Hal Westlake as he walked back and 
forth amongst the roses — the sacred spot where he 
bid his darling goodby. 

“She forbid me to seek her, or I would not lose a 
moment in going to Darkwood and finding out the 
cause of her silence. I cannot understand it. 

“Surely she has not forgotten so soon. No, no; it 
is not that, I am sure. Caro was not one to love light- 
ly ;” and a tender look came into his eyes as he thought 
of her words — “I love you, Hal.” 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


77 


He heard again the soft tones of her voice as his 
memory traveled backward to the day when she ac- 
knowledged her love for him. Surely theirs was love 
at first sight. Invariably you will find such love to be 
the most enduring, and rarely does it take wings. 
When the heart finds its own true mate it settles there 
to roam no more. Such was the love cf Hal Westlake 
and Caro Darkwood. 

No matter what clouds might darken the horizon of 
their love, no matter how long and sad the parting, he 
felt that she loved him and him only, wherever she 
might be. He wondered if she was thinking of him. 

He repeated to himself the verses : 

“And do you think of me. 

When you and I are far apart. 

All day and every day, my heart, 

Wherever you may be? 

“But do you, with impatient pain. 

Count all the days and all the hours, 

Until that time of sun and flowers. 

When we shall meet again?” 

Was she counting the days and hours until she 
should again meet him? 

'‘Why did she not write?’' he asked himself again 
and again. 

He told himself he would wait a while longer and 
then if he did not hear from her he would disobey her 
commands and go to Darkwood in search of her, al- 
though he did not know who to inquire for, as she was 
uncertain of her plans, but he would find out. He was 
roused from his reverie by his mother, who came to 
summon him to dinner. 

“Dinner ! Why, mother, it seems as if it is always 
meal-time. I do not believe I care for any.” 


78 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“Hal, what has come over you ? You have no appe- 
tite any more, and you are growing thin and pale. If 
I were you I think I would prescribe for myself.’' 

“Do not worry about me, mother. I am well 
enough,” he answered, smiling, but not the bright smile 
he was wont to give. 

“You do not look it, my son, and I feel worried 
about you.” 

“That is all nonsense. Has the mail come, mother?” 
he inquired anxiously. 

“Yes ; but no mail for you to-day. Ah, Hal, is it that 
which is worrying you ?” she said, as the light dawned 
on her mind. 

“Well, yes ; to tell you the truth, I feel worried lest 
some ill has befallen Caro. You know she promised 
to write, and I have not received so much as a scratch 
of the pen from her.” 

“It is rather strange, but perhaps she has forgotten, 
or maybe she has fallen ill again. She was not over- 
strong.” 

What if he knew of her fate 1 

He would go mad with grief, and would never rest 
until he had found the fiend who, without a twinge 
of conscience, had given his prey to the mercy of the 
waves. 

Luckily for that fiend, he did not know it, or Philip 
Darkwood would find himself in an undesirable posi- 
tion indeed. 

And Caro Darkwood, or Dora Dene, what became 
of her when Philip Darkwood so mercilessly threw her 
body into the Hudson ? 

He did not wait to see, but had he done so he would 
have seen her body drop — not into the water, but upon 
a little sandy waste at the base of the bank. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


79 


For several hours it lay there, and before conscious- 
ness had returned the tide took her fate in hand and 
washed her out into the river. There she was picked 
up by a steamer bound southward. It was at first 
thought life was extinct, but she was given in charge 
of the captain's wife, who finally brought her around 
by applying hot blankets to her chilled body, while 
brandy, internally, greatly aided in the work of resus- 
citation. When she had regained consciousness the 
captain's wife asked : 

'‘How came you in the water, child ?" 

“I do not know," she answered. “I was not near 
the water when I fainted. I must have been carried 
there and thrown in. The last I can remember I was 
frightened by a horse that was almost upon me — it was 
running away, I think. 

“Where are your friends" 

“I have no friends, ma'am." 

“Poor child ! What is your name-" 

She hesitated for an instant, and then answered : 

“Dora Dene." 

The captain's wife started to ask her another ques- 
tion, when she saw that she had again fainted. In the 
meantime, a lady of about sixty, well dressed, with a 
kindly face and aristocratic bearing, had come up and 
overheard the conversation. 

“Poor little thing! Did she not say she had no 
friends," asked she, addressing the captain's wife. 

“Yes, Ma'am," she answered. 

“What do you intend to do with her?" 

“I do not know anything we can do, but put her in 
the hospital when we get to New York. She is com- 
pletely exhausted." 

“I will take charge of her. Something in her face 


8o 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


has aroused my pity. I will take her home with me/^ 
said the lady. 

^‘She is lucky, ma’am, that she has found a friend. 
She will need rest when she comes out of this.” 

“Well, she shall have it. She reminds me strongly 
of some one, I cannot recall who. What did she say 
was her name?” 

“Dora Dene, ma’am.” 

“Dene? I do not remember anyone of that name, 
and yet her face brings back some half-forgotten mem- 
ory,” she said, half to herself, as if trying to think 
where and when she had seen a face like that of the 
girl lying before her. “Ah !” she exclaimed, “has she 
not dropped otf into sleep ?” 

“Only a sleep of exhaustion, ma’am. She looks pale, 
anyway, as if she had been ill ; and being in the water 
for goodness knows how long, no wonder she is so 
weak. It is a wonder to me that we were able to bring 
her around anyway. I thought she was dead when 
they first brought her to me.” 

“How long will it be before we reach New York?” 

“Only about thirty minutes now, ma’am.” 

“Well, you see that the child is comfortable while I 
go down and see to my satchel. I have something in it 
that would perhaps be needed before it is delivered at 
my residence.” 

“Very well, ma’am. I will do all I can for her, Lord 
love her pretty face.” 

When the steamer arrived at New York the lady had 
the girl conveyed to her carriage, which awaited her 
at the pier, and seating herself beside the child to whom 
she had taken so odd a fancy, she gave the coachman 
the signal to start homeward. The carriage halted be- 
fore a grand residence on Fifth Avenue, and the un- 
conscious body of Caro Darkwood was carried into the 
house and a doctor sent for immediately. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


^‘So the false spider, when her nets are spread, 
Deep ambushed in her silent den does lie.” 


“Ah, Mrs. Barclay, how can I thank you for your 
kindness to a homeless and helpless girl ?” asked Dora 
Dene, as she continued to call herself, with tears of 
gratitude filling her eyes. 

“Never mind the thanks, my dear, and if you have 
no home I would like you to stay with me. I will not 
ask you your history because I know you do not wish 
to speak to me of it, or you would have told me before.” 

“I will tell you, if you wish it.” 

“Oh, well, you can do so another time. I have not 
time to listen to-day, and I wish to tell you that I ex- 
pect a visitor — a gentleman, and I would like to pre- 
sent you to him.” 

“What is his name ?” 

“Mr. Philip Darkwood. He is quite wealthy now. I 
met him about a year ago at a friend's, and ever since, 
when he comes to New York, he favors me with a 
visit. 

“Why, my dear, what is the matter? You are shak- 
ing like a leaf.” 


82 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


'‘Nothing, only a slight chilV’ she answered with an 
effort. 

“My dear child, I am afraid you have not entirely re- 
covered yet. 

“I must go out and make some purchases. Lie down 
and rest until I return, and you will feel better.” 

As soon as she was alone she sprang to her feet. 

“Philip Darkwood coming here! I must go before 
be arrives. I do not want him to know that he has 
failed in his attempt to drown me, for I know that it 
was he who threw me in the Hudson, having discov- 
ered my identity. 

“But Mrs. Barclay will be apt to mention the name 
of Dora Dene!” she exclaimed. 

“How can I prevent him from finding out? I will 
leave a note to Mrs. Barclay.” 

Hurrying to the writing desk she hastily wrote the 
following : 

“"‘Mrs. Barclay: 

“Dear friend and benefactress: 

■“Circumstances compel me to leave you. Respect my wishes 
and do not under any circumstances mention the name of 
Dora Dene. Do not think me ungrateful, for some day I shall 
prove that I am not. 

“With love, Dora Dene.” 

Hastily donning her hat and gloves she left the lux- 
urious home of Mrs. Barclay, and slipping out with- 
out being seen, she walked rapidly down Fifth Ave- 
nue. 

It was approaching night, and for the first time it 
struck her that she had no place to go. She knew no 
one in New York, and told herself that she would have 
to go to a lodging house for the night. Feeling in her 
pocket for her purse, she found, to her consternation 
that she had forgotten it. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 83 

Mrs. Barclay had insisted on her accepting a small 
sum, and that she had left behind her. 

“What was she to do? Where should she go? 

Should she go back to Mrs. Barclay and run the 
chances of meeting Philip Darkwood? 

“No, no!” she exclaimed. “I will not go back now! 
If I only had my purse. 

“Oh, Hall If I had only not left you!” as her 
thoughts turned to her lover. 

“And that man — Philip Darkwood — i am afraid of 
him ! What a villain he is to attempt to drown an in- 
nocent girl, although that was to be expected of him 
when he is already a red-handed murderer. Oh ! if I 
only had money enough to get back to Darkwood to- 
night, but I am homeless and penniless. What shall I 
do?” she cried in terror. 

“Are you in trouble, miss?” asked a voice behind 
her. 

She turned quickly and beheld a well-dressed man, 
who took off his hat and continued : 

“I overheard your remark that you were homeless 
and penniless. Won’t you let me help you?” 

She did not know what to say. Should she accept 
his aid or not ? 

“Come home with me for to-night,” he continued. 

“My folks will see that you are treated well, and in 
the morning we will decide how best we can assist 
you,” he suavely remarked. 

“Oh, sir ; I do not know you, but if you will aid me 
I will repay you. Could you loan me a few dollars?” 
she asked nervously. 

“Certainly, miss, but unfortunately I have left my 
pocket-book at home, and was just on my way to re- 
turn for it. Come along and you shall have the sum 
you require.” 


84 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


Mechanically, she accompanied him for quite a dis- 
tance, not noticing what streets they traversed, when 
at last he stopped at a large stone house. 

“Here we are, miss. Come in. Go into the recep- 
tion room there until I get my purse.” 

Nervously, and with an unknown fear taking pos- 
session of her, she did as he told her, and found her- 
self in a large room, handsomely upholstered in plush 
and damask. She had spent several minutes in taking 
in her surroundings, when the servant who opened the 
door entered. 

“Master said, would you please step up to his study, 
miss, as there is company coming who wish to occupy 
this room, and he said that he did not expect you would 
want anybody to know your business.” 

She arose and followed the servant up the richly- 
carpeted staircase, as if in a dream. 

“This way, miss,” said he, as he opened a door for 
her to enter. 

As she entered, the man who had promised to aid her 
came forward and closed the door behind her. 

“Now,” said the man, “you will remain in this house 
until I have time to pay you a little attention.” 

“Sir !” she exclaimed, indignantly. 

“O, come now! No theatricals! No harm will 
come to you here.” 

“Sir, you are insulting ! Allow me to pass !” moving 
toward the door, which, to her amazement, she found 
locked. “Why is this door locked,^ sir ?” 

“Just in case you got uneasy and wanted to run 
away.” 

“You villain ! she cried, shrinking back. “Oh ! why 
did I listen to you,” she cried in agony. 

“Because you are an inexperienced little fool,” he 
said, derisively. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


85 


“Whose house is this ?” she gasped. 

“A friend of mine lives here. I will see you later,” 
he said, as he hurriedly passed out, locking the door. 
As she realized the situation she fell back in despair. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


Cease to lament for that thou can^st not help 
And study help for that which thou lament'st.’* 


Celine, Caro’s maid, who had delivered to her the 
sleeve-button which was to prove a clue to the mur- 
derer of her father — what had become of her ? 

Soon after her mistress left Darkwood, Philip Dark- 
wood dismissed her, telling her there was no further 
demand for her services. 

But Celine was no fool, and had her suspicions as 
well as Caro. 

Her mistress had told her that if she found anything 
else to keep it and deliver it to no one but herself. She 
did find something else — ^that something else being no 
less than the mate to the sleeve button she had found 
at the spot where the ghastly murder had been com- 
mitted, and which was in the possession of her mis- 
tress. 

She was suspicious of Philip Darkwood, and she 
kept her eyes open. 

He spent most of his time in the library, and Celine 
found occasion to pass the door quite frequently. On 
one of these occasions she caught a glimpse of him 
through the keyhole in the act of throwing a bundle of 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


87 


papers in the grate. She determined to find out their 
contents, so awaiting an opportunity, she slipped into 
the library when no one was around, but to her disap- 
pointment the papers were burned to ashes. But what 
was the shining object lying amidst the burnt paper? 

The mate to that sleeve-button !’’ she cried in joy. 
‘‘Oh, wont Miss Caro beglad when she gets this ?”* 

But her joy was fated to turn to sorrow, for even 
while she was rejoicing, news came of the terrible acci- 
dent that was supposed to have cost her mistress her 
life. 

“Poor dear Miss Caro!’’ she cried. “She is past all 
her trials now. But I’ll keep this button, and if any- 
thing ever comes to light, it may prove a convicting 
clue.” 

So when she left Darkwood Villa she took the button 
with her to New York, where she hoped to find em- 
ployment. She had a sister living there, and she in- 
tended to stay with her until she obtained another sit- 
uation. 

One day she was returning home after answering an 
advertisement, when she caught a glimpse of a face in 
a passing carriage. 

“How like Miss Caro!” she exclaimed, half aloud. 
“I could have sworn that it was she were she in the 
land of the living. But, poor dear, she is with the 
white angels now. But how like to hers was that 
face !” 

And it was indeed the face of Caro Darkwood that 
she had seen in the carriage with Mrs. Barclay. 

Shortly after she went to her sister, she had a severe 
attack of malaria, which confined her to the house for 
nearly six weeks, and at the time Caro found a friend 
in Mrs. Barclay she was just able to be about and had 
answered an advertisement for a “lady’s maid.” 


88 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


All the way home she was haunted by the face she 
had seen looking from the carriage window. That 
night she dreamed of Caro Darkwood — dreamed that 
she was alive and well and that she was confined some- 
where and was crying to her to come to her rescue. The 
dream left such an impression on her mind that she 
spoke to her sister about it the following morning. 

'^Jennie/’ she said, addressing her, *T had the strang- 
est dream last night. I thought Miss Caro, my late 
mistress, was alive and was calling to me for help. She 
appeared to be confined somewhere. I can’t remember 
what sort of a place. And yesterday, when I was re- 
turning home, I saw a face in a passing carriage that 
must have been Miss Caro’s ghost.” 

“O, go along, Celine! You are the most supersti- 
tious person I ever came across.” 

“You may say what you please, Jennie, but some- 
how or other I have begun to doubt whether Miss Caro 
really is dead.” 

“Why, Celine, did they not find her body and bury 
it? At least so you told me when you first came.” 

“Yes, they found a body — ^but was it Miss Caro’s? 
I never doubted before, but suppose it was somebody 
else. Her face was so crushed that you could scarcely 
tell whether it was black or white, and why could not 
some one else have had a dress like hers? And that 
satchel of Miss Caro’s — why, she may have lost that 
during the excitement. 

“No, Jennie,” she continued, with conviction,” Miss 
Caro is not dead.” 

“Celine, you are absurd.” 

“Absurd or not, I tell you she is alive and in trouble. 
My dreams have invariably come true, and I believe 
that one last night was an inspiration.” 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 89 

“Changing the subject — did you get the situation?’’ 
asked Jennie. 

“Yes, I am to go to-morrow morning. Mrs. Trevor 
seemed to like my appearance, for she did not hestitate 
to accept my services, and when I asked her if she 
wished reference, she said no, my face was an honest 
one and carried its own recommendation.” 

“Well, Celine, the people will turn your head. But 
you are pretty and no mistake.” 

“I think you will turn my head before any one else, 
laughed Celine, as she began to pack her trunk. 

The following day found her installed at Trevor 
House as maid to Mrs. Bertram Trevor, a wealthy and 
stylish lady of Fifth Avenue. 

Although surrounded by all the luxuries of life, 
Celine thought that she had some secret trouble, for 
despite the fact that she mingled with the gayest, there 
were times when her maid found her in tears. And 
Celine decided, and decided rightly, that the cause of 
those tears was — Mr. Bertram Trevor. 

He was seldom at home. Even his meals were often 
taken out at some fashionable restaurant, and Celine 
heard it whispered among the servants that he prefered 
the company of other women to that of his wife. He 
had married her for the fortune she possessed in her 
own right, and she, poor fool, had imagined that he 
cared for her, though several weeks of married life had 
disabused her mind of that idea. 

Existence became a misery after awhile, but she de- 
cided that the world should not know that she cared, 
so she plunged into a round of social pleasure and tried 
to drown her sorrow. But in the quiet of her own bou- 
doir her purposeless life would stand out before her in 
full force, and memory would bring the bitter tears to 


90 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


her eyes, that surely were not meant to be dimmed by 
sorrow — such beautiful eyes they were. 

Bertram Trevor’s loves were said to be numerous, 
and many wild tales were told of his escapades. 

Although Mrs. Trevor’s love was not as strong as it 
once was, she was in constant fear lest her husband 
would bring some great disgrace on her, which she felt 
would be worse than all. 

One day she sent for her maid to come to her. 

“Celine, I feel that I can trust you. I have no one 
else in whom I could confide. You have heard of the 
life my husband leads ?” 

“Well, yes, ma’am, it is no use denying it. I have 

heard.” 

“I want you to do me a kindness, Celine. I fear that 
he is up to some mischief. I want you to find out what 
it is. He stayed at home last night, and in his sleep he 
was talking of keeping some one locked up. I fear 
that he is doing some one an injury, and if possible I 
must prevent it. Will you follow him when he goes 
out ? See where he goes. I must know.” 

“I will do this for you, Mrs. Trevor, but is there any 
danger of him recognizing me?” 

“No, none at all. I dare say he has scarcely noticed 
you. Anyway, you can tie a veil over your face. Hur- 
ry, Celine, for he has already completed his toilet.” 

“Very well, ma’am.” 

Fifteen minutes later, Bertram Trevor left the house, 
followed at a short distance by Celine, dressed in plain 
black, with a thick veil over her face. 

For several blocks she followed him, and finally saw 
him stop on a comer. She walked leisurely past, and 
just as she was on a line with him, a man came up from 
the opposite direction and slapped him on the shoulder. 
“Hello, Trevor !” he exclaimed. 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


91 


‘Why, Darkwood, what are you doing: in New 

Yorkr^ 

As he mentioned that name, Celine turned around 
and caught a glimpse of the new-comer’s face. 

“Philip Darkwood!” she gasped, under her breath. 
“So they are friends.” 

For nearly half an hour they stood there talking, 
when she saw them move off. 

Following them, she finally saw the pair enter a bil- 
liard-room. She determined that she would not follow 
them any further that day, as she waited quite a while 
and they did not come out. So she returned to Trevor 
House, and informed Mrs. Trevor of her husband’s 
movements. 

“I have seen that Philip Darkwood. You say you 
know him?” 

“Yes, ma’ani, I used to be in the employ of his 
cousin.” 

“You may be sure he is no good,” said Mrs. Trevor, 
“or he would not be such an intimate friend of Bert- 
ram Trevor’s. Perhaps, Celine, you will be more suc- 
cessful next time. I mean to find out just what he is 
doing. I have been tempted to leave him several 
times, and if I can obtain positive proof of his villainy 
I shall sue for a divorce. You will respect my confi- 
dence, I know you will.” 

“Indeed I will, ma’am,” returned Celine, who pitied 
the poor forsaken child — for she was little more than 
a child in appearance. 


CHAPTER XV. 


“When liberty is gone, 

Life grows insipid, and has lost its relish.^' 

When Celine left the vicinity of the billiard room en- 
tered by Bertram Trevor and Philip Darkwood, the 
two men emerged into the street. 

“Darkwood, that woman was following us as sure 
as fate. But we gave her the slip this lime. Who could 
it have been and what was her object in tracking our 
footsteps ? Come, old man, let us hasten our steps and 
see where she goes. There she is, about a square 
ahead. I caught a glimpse of her just now !” 

“She did not suspect that we had caught on to her, 
though, laughed Darkwood. 

“No, certainly not. Where in the name of all that's 
holy, is she going ? By George ! Darkwood, she is en- 
tering my own house. Well, I will be jiggered ! Come, 
in old boy, come in. I mean to find out who that was ?" 

O, I dare say that your wife was spying on you," 
chuckled Darkwood. 

“Why man, don't you think I would know her? Be- 
sides — she does not bother herself any more about 
where I go." 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


93 


“Wise woman! She would have her hands full if 
she did, Fll swear.” 

As they entered the hall, Philip Darkwood caught a 
glimpse of a slight figure just entering a room further 
down. He got one look at her face, but that look was 
enough. 

“Celine,” he muttered, half aloud. 

“What is that you said, Darkwood?'* 

“That girl” — put in Darkwood — “that girl used to 
be a maid at Darkwood Villa. It was she who was fol- 
lowing us. What is she doing here ?” 

“By Jove!” exclaimed Trevor, “that must be my 
wife’s new maid. But why was she following us? 
That is the question.” 

A vague fear ran through Philip Darkwood's brain. 

Was it himself that she was following or was it 
Trevor ? Why should she follow him ? Did she know 
anything? He knew that the girl had no liking for 
him. Suppose she knew something concerning the 
tragedy at Darkwood ? Suppose she had found a clue 
and intended to make capital out of it ? 

His thoughts were broken up by Trevor, who ex- 
claimed : 

“Why, what is the matter, Darkwood? You look 
like you are frightened, pon my word.” 

“Trevor, I want you to get rid of that girl. I believe 
that it was me, not you, she was following. I fear she 
has caught on to a little secret of mine, and safety de- 
mands that she be gotten rid of.” 

“The deuce !” exclaimed Bertram Trevor .“Well, the 
only thing that we can do is to lock her up somewhere. 
I am willing to help you, old man. You see, I do not 
forget past favors. But are you sure she is onto you ?” 

“Not sure, but things look suspicious, and I do not 
want to run any risks.” 


94 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“Well, Darkwood, give us your plans. How shall 
we accomplish it ?” 

“Look here, Trevor, if she was following us, she 
would be likely to do so again if we leave here. She 
saw us enter, but I do not think she knew that I rec- 
ognized her. If you have any place in mind where we 
could confine her until we find out what she knows, we 
will go slowly there, and I will bet a fiver that we will 
trap her nicely.” 

“Come, then, Darkwood, let us try it anyway.” 

Quietly they left the house together, and after going 
a little distance they took a cut across the street so they 
could see if they were followed without deliberately 
turning around. 

“By George! You were right, Darkwood. She is 
following us, sure enough. Well, let her come. She 
will not get back in a hurry, I will bet. I will trap her 
as nicely as I did one a short time ago.” 

“What place have you in view, Trevor ?” 

“Vick's. Have you forgotten Vick?” 

“O, no,” said Darkwood. “By the way, are we not 
almost there ?” 

“Yes ; it is only several blocks further.” 

“Can you see the maid yet?” 

“Yes. She is half a block behind. She is trying to 
gain on us.” 

“That is just what I want her to do. I am glad it is 
getting dusk. It just suits us so much the better. 

“Ah, here we are at last, old man. Now let us step 
into the vestibule, and wait until she comes up.” 

A few minutes more, and Celine was just opposite 
the doorway of the house she saw them enter. She 
went up closer and peered in, but as she did so a man 
whom she recognized as Bertram Trevor sprang out. 


DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


95 


and clapping his hand over her mouth to prevent her 
from crying out, dragged her inside and banged the 
door after him. 

Inside, he was aided by Philip Darkwood, and de- 
spite her kicks and struggles she was half dragged up 
the stairway by the two men. 

They took her along a long passage way until they 
reached a certain door, when Bertram Trevor thrust a 
key in the lock, opened it, and dragging her inside 
amidst struggles and suppressed screams, closed the 
door behind him. When he had fastened the door he 
released her. 

“Now, miss, tell us why you were following us.” 

“Poor Celine, half-fainting, and scared almost out 
of her wits, by the actions of the two men, stood 
against the wall in dumb despair. 

“Speak, you fool!” commanded Philip Darkwood, 
addressing her for the first time. 

“Speak ! Were you following Trevor or me?” 

Finding her breath, she answered in frightened 
tones : 

“I — I was not following anybody.” 

“You lie !” exclaimed Darkwood. “We saw you fol- 
lowing us the first time, but I guess you will not do it 
again in a hurry. Mrs. Bertram Trevor will have to 
find another maid.” 

“Oh! let me out! I haven't done anything! I was 
not following you. Why should I?” 

“That is just what we want to know.” 

“Ah! my fine Celine, I have not forgotten you. 
And if it is me that you were following for any pur- 
pose, I will make it hot for you, that is all.” 

“Are you going to keep me here,” she asked in 
trembling tones. 


96 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“That’s just what I am going to do.” 

At those words Celine sunk to the floor, sobbing and 
crying out in despair. 

“You may as well take things quietly,” said Dark- 
wood. 

“We will leave you here until you tell us what you 
know concerning us and why you were on our track.” 

With that they went out, leaving the sobbing and 
frightened girl to herself. 

“Villains, both of them!” she cried. “Philip Dark- 
wood fears me, and it was through him that I was 
carried into this house. He is guilty ! I am sure of it 
now!” 


CHAPTER XVL 


a divine instinct men's minds mistrust ensuing 
danger; as by proof we see 
The waters swell before a boisterous storm." 


‘‘Mother, I can stand this no longer !" exclaimed Dr. 
Hal Westlake. “I must go to Darkwood Villa and find 
out what has become of Caro. I have waited in the 
hope of receiving a letter from her all these long weary 
weeks, and still not one word has she written to me. 
I feel that something has happened to her, and I can- 
not rest until I visit Darkwood and inquire if she is 
alive and well. 

“When she left me," he continued, “I felt that some 
evil would befall her, and now I fear that my pre- 
sentiment has been verified." 

“O Hal, my son, I hope not. And yet, it seems 
strange that she did not keep her promise to you." 

“Well, mother, I am going. I have given my pa- 
tients in charge of Dr. Walton until 1 return. Keep 
up your spirits, dear mother, and hope for my success. 
I will not return to Rose Lodge until I find my darl- 
ing." 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“Good-bye, my son, and may you return sooner than 
you think. Perhaps your fears concerning her wel- 
fare have no foundation whatever.” 

The five o^clock train carried Dr. Westlake to Dark- 
wood. 

At the station he inquired about the location of 
Darkwood Villa. 

The only conveyance he could procure happened to 
be an old carriage belonging to the station-master, and 
although its rickety condition gave one the reason to 
think that its occupant was in danger of coming in 
contact with mother earth. Dr. Westlake escaped that 
fate and arrived at the villa safe and sound. 

Springing lightly up the veranda steps he inquired 
for the master. 

“Master is not at home, sir,” answered the servant 
addressed ; “but Miss Demar is in.” 

“Well, I would like to see her, then,” replied Dr. 
Westlake. 

“Walk right into the drawing-room, sir. What 
name ?” 

“Here is my card.” 

A few minutes later a petite figure entered the draw- 
ing-room. 

“You wished to see me?” she inquired pleasantly, 
being at once struck by the good looks of Dr. West- 
lake. 

“Yes, madam. I wish to ask you a few questions, if 
you will be kind enough to answer.” 

“Certainly, if it is in my power to do so.” 

“You will not think me impertinent, madam, I hope, 
when I tell you I have a good reason for asking them.” 

“Certainly not. I am at your service.” 

“Well then” he began, “has there been any strange 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


99 


young girl here at the villa since the death of its old 
master ?” 

Cora Demar started as he asked that question. 
Surely he did not mean her, she thought. She cast 
that idea aside and answered : 

“Well, sir, I came since then.’" 

“But did anyone else?” 

“No, no one, save several maids, but of course you 
do not mean them.” 

“Where are those maids? What were their names?” 
he asked excitedly. 

“The one in my employ at present is called Katie 
Dent.” 

“Would you mind describing her appearance?” 

“She is very tall and — ” 

“That is not the one,” he interrupted. 

“You spoke of several. Was there another one?” 

“Yes, I did have a maid named Dora Dene, but she 
left me rather unceremoniously.” 

“Was she rather slight, with dark eyes ?” he inquired 
unsteadily. 

“Yes, she was slender and not very tall; but as for 
her eyes, I could not tell you their color for the reason 
that she always wore large blue glasses on account of 
their weakness, so she said.” 

“Do you know her present whereabouts ?” 

“No, I do not. As I said before she left me without 
any notice ; and, stranger than all, she did not take her 
clothing with her. 

Dr. Westlake started at that piece of information, 
and felt certain that this girl she called Dora Dene was 
his own Caro. But where was she? Why had she left 
this woman’s employ in so odd a manner? What did 
it mean? 


ILofC. 


lOO 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


‘^And you have heard nothing of her since?” he 
anxiously asked. 

"‘Not one word, sir.” 

“That is very strange. Do you think any harm has 
befallen her?” 

“I did at first, but as I have never heard of her in 
any way, I have come to the conclusion that she had 
some reason for leaving so mysteriously.” 

“You are a stranger to me, but I feel that it would 
be safe to confide in you, and perhaps you would be 
able to help me. Will you keep what I am about to tell 
you a secret?” 

“I will, I swear it,” she answered. “You may trust 
me. When I once give a promise I never break it.” 

“Well, madam, you have heard, I dare say, of Caro 
Darkwood.” 

“O yes, you mean the girl who was killed in that 
railroad accident.” 

“What! Did you think that?” 

“Certainly. She is buried beside her father, so I have 
heard Philip Darkwood say.” 

“Well, you will be surprised when I tell you she was 
not killed as you supposed.” 

“Not killed!” 

No. There has been some mistake. She was in- 
jured, but she recovered from that under my care, and 
started for Darkwood Villa, and that girl you called 
DoraDene must have been she.” 

“What! Dora Dene and Caro Darkwood one and 
the same person ?” 

“That is my belief,” returned Dr. Westlake. 

“But what was her object in coming back here in 
disguise? Why did she not return as Caro Dark- 
wood ?” 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGKDY 


lOI 


^‘Because she had an object in remaining unknown. 
She swore to have revenge on her father’s murderer, — 
I dare say you heard of that.” 

“Yes, I heard it from the servants when I first came. 
But whom did she suspect?” 

“That I do not know, but it must have been some 
one near here, or she would not have returned dis- 
guised.” 

“Ah!” she exclaimed significantly. 

“Miss Demar, do you think you could help me to find 
her. I fear some evil has happened to her.” 

“As you have placed confidence enough in me to tell 
this, I will tell you what I think, now that I know 
Dora Dene was Caro Darkwood. Swear that you will 
not tell who put you on the track.” 

“I swear!” he answered solemnly. 

“Well, Dr. Westlake, I believe that Philip Dark- 
wood had something to do with her sudden disappear- 
ance. He is now in New York, upon what business 
I do not know. But I honestly believe that he knows 
her whereabouts. Further than that, I cannot say.” 

“You say he is in New York. Have you his ad- 
dress ?” 

“No, he did not leave any address, You will have 
to find him as best you can.” 

“Thank you for telling me this suspicion of yours. 
I shall act upon it immediately. You may trust me to 
keep quiet concerning it. Is this Philip Darkwood the 
sort of man that would lead off a young girl ?” 

“I would not trust him too far,” she answered cau- 
tiously, lest she might say too much. 

“I shall start immediately for New York, and if 
Caro Darkwood is in the land of the living I will find 
her.” 


102 


THE DA.RKWOOD TRAGEDY 


*‘I hope you will be successful, Dr. Westlake,” an- 
swered Cora, who was not so bad at heart as one 
might imagine. 

Although hardened against some of the virtues be- 
longing to womanhood, her heart still had a tender 
comer, which could sympathize with any one in 
trouble. She hated Phil Darkwood, and she pitied the 
girl who, she felt confident, had fallen into his 
clutches. 

Dr. Hal Westlake lost no time in making the trip to 
New York, but he found it no easy task in locating 
Philip Darkwood. He told himself, if he was in New 
York he would find him and learn the whereabouts of 
Caro Darkwood, or Dora Dene, as she was called 
while occupying the position of a maid at Darkwood 
when she should have been its mistress. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


“O heavens ! can you hear a good man groan, 
And not relent, or not compassion him?” 


When Caro Darkwood, or Dora Dene, recovered 
somewhat from the shock she had experienced on find- 
ing herself confined in a strange house, she began to 
look around to see if there were any means of making 
her escape. 

Her only hope lay in the windows, but on looking 
out she found that it would mean certain death to at- 
tempt escape in that manner. 

She chided herself for having been duped so easily. 

‘'What a wicked city this must be,” she murmured. 
“Oh ! if only dear papa were living, I would not be in 
all this trouble. I feel that he is looking down in pity 
on his homeless child. If I could only go to him,” she 
sobbed. 

“Oh ! God, show me some way of escape from that 
monster who would insult a friendles girl. If only 
Hal were here he would rescue me from the clutches 
of that fiend, in semblance of a gentleman, who lured 
me into this house. I wonder what he thinks is the 
reason he has not heard from me ? 


104 dark wood tragedy 

'‘Does he think that I have forgotten ? As if I could 
ever forget his love and kindness. Although our hands 
are parted, I feel that our hearts are united for aye.” 

Her musings were interrupted by the entrance of a 
large colored woman, who was careful to lock the door 
behind her. 

“Here, miss, I have brought your supper to you.” 

“I do not want any supper. I only want to get out 
of this house. Won't you help me escape from here? 
I beg of you to have mercy and let me out.” 

“Deed, missie, I can’t let you out when massa gave 
strict orders to keep you locked up.” 

“Who is that man? Tell me his name.” 

“Why, honey, I thought you knew him. You came 
in with him,” answered the negress. 

“I know that I did, but he lured me here through 
promise of aid. I ask you again, who is he ?” 

“As long as you don’t know perhaps he wouldn’t 
like for me to tell you. 

“Is everybody against me? Have I no friends?” 
moaned Caro. 

“Poor little thing!” exclaimed the negress. “I do 
feel sorry for you, but it is as much as my life is worth 
to let you out. You had best take things quietly. Here 
eat your supper.” 

“And you will not help me to escape ?” 

“I would, missie, if I could, but I can’t disobey 
orders. You don’t know Mr. Bertram Trevor as well 
as I do, or you would not ask it of me.” 

“Bertram Trevor! Is that his name?” 

“O Lord! There I’ve gone and told you. But I 
guess it does not make much difference.” 

“Who is he? What is he?” 

“You’ll have to ask him, missie, when he comes 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


105 


again. I haven’t got time to talk now. Eat your sup- 
per, you are too pretty to starve yourself to death. 
Come now, be sensible.” 

Caro tried to eat some of the food before her, but it 
almost choked her, and she finally pushed it back with 
disgust. For several days she saw no one save the 
negress who brought her meals. 

The day following her incarceration she heard scuf- 
fling and loud voices in the adjoining room, and 
rightly guessed that it was some poor creature being 
locked in as she had been. Had she known that the 
poor creature was Celine, she would have tried to make 
herself heard, although a thick wall separated them. 

But such is fate. 

Here were these two, who each wished to see the 
other, in the same house, separated by a mere parti- 
tion. 

For Celine still believed that Caro Darkwood was 
in the land of the living, and that it was her face that 
she had seen in the passing carriage. Ever after that, 
when she happened to be on the street, she would look 
at the faces in passing vehicles in the hope of again 
seeing that of her mistress, but she never had the good 
fortune to come across her again. 

Celine also, had looked for means of escape and 
seen how fruitless would be any attempt in that di- 
rection. Mistress and maid were similarly situated, 
and It was many days before either of them saw the 
man who had locked them in the house they spoke of 
as “Vicks.” 

What had kept Bertram Trevor away so long ? 

Each of the girls asked herself that question, as the 
days went by without a sign of him. Celine thought 
that something unusual must have happened, and she 
thought right. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


‘‘Think on the storm that gathers o’er your heads, 

And threatens every hour to burst upon it.” 

Bertram Trevor had suddenly disappeared from 
New York. So had Philip Darkwood. 

Where had they gone? 

No one knew. 

But had any one followed them they would have 
seen them alight from the train at a small station called 
Barkdale. 

The country all around was in an uncultivated state, 
and as far as the eye could reach nothing could be seen 
but barren hills and thick woodlands. The only habi- 
tation was situated in the midst of one of those wood- 
lands, and that seemed to be the destination of the two 
men. The building presented a grim aspect as it 
loomed up amongst the trees. The windows were 
barred, and one would imagine at the first glance that 
it was either a jail or an insane asylum. The latter 
supposition would be correct. 

As Bertram Trevor and Philip Darkwood approach- 
ed, they could hear the screams and ravings of the in- 
mates. 


THE DARK WOOD TRAGEDY lOJ 

say Dark, Gaskins must be flogging some of them, 
judging from the way they are yelling. Good Lord I 
if I had to stay around a place like that I would be a 
raving maniac myself before many days.'’ 

“Here, too; but Gaskins does not mind it in the 
least. How is Helen coming on?” 

“Still sticking it out. I fail to see why she doesn’t 
turn up her toes. Of course, she is just as good as 
dead while she is here, but still I wish she would kick 
the bucket and be through with it.” 

Dr. Gaskins himself answered the bell. 

“Hello, boys! You were successful, then, were 
you ?” 

“Of course, or we would not be here now,” an- 
swered Trevor. 

“Did you bring the boodle with you ?” 

“Yes, and a good pile, too.” 

“Come into my private office and we will talk it 
over.” 

They followed him in, and closing the door and 
locking it, they settled down to business. 

“I say, boys, you are lucky dogs, but you will get 
caught yet before you are through. I suppose the 
papers to-day will have a full account of the great bank 
robbery of Sturgis & Co.” 

“Of course. But they will not trace the boodle to 
Dr. Gaskins’s Insane Asylum,” laughed Darkwood. 

“No, I guess not,” answered Gaskins. 

“If they did, they might find something else here 
that would stir up New York society. Eh, Trevor?” 

“Ah, how is she Gaskins ? Any sig^ of weakening?” 

“Not a bit. She has all her faculties just the same as 
she had when you first brought her here. 

“Does she cut up any more?” 


io8 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“No; she found out that it cut no figure, so she 
has stopped those capers. But she does not look well.” 

“I wish she was out of the way. I say, Gaskins, you 
could not give her a dose now, could you?” 

“I could, but I won’t. See here, Trevor, I have done 
dirty work, I know, but I will not do that. I do not 
see why you should worry about getting her out of the 
way. She is safe enough here. 

“But, changing the subject, I am waiting for my 
share to be handed over.” 

“O, you shall have it. We are going to stay until 
to-night, when Tremaine will join us.” 

“All right, make yourself at home.” 

Late that evening Jasper Tremaine, arrived on time. 

When they were all assembled, Bertram Trevor took 
a package from his pocket, and counting over the 
notes, divided them between his three confederates and 
himself. 

“We did well this time,” remarked Tremaine. 

“Time we were doing something — funds were get- 
ting low,” laughed Trevor. 

“What’s the matter, Trev, doesn’t the old lady allow 
you as much as she used to?” asked Tremaine. 

“O the fact is, I am in debt.” 

“That is an old chestnut. When were you ever out 
of debt?” 

“O, well, I know I am generally owing somebody, 
but these are debts of honor.” 

“When I left town,” began Tremaine, “the news- 
boys were reaping a harvest off the papers which gave 
an account of the most skillful and daring bank rob- 
bery that had been perpetrated in years. It stated 
that the watchman was found drugged, and bound 
hand and foot.” 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


109 


“It did not say, though, that he was willing to be 
drugged for a certain sum. Til wager,” laughed Tre- 
vor. 

“Here, Trev, is one of the papers. Want to read it?” 

“Certainly; hand it over. Ah! the detectives think 
they have a clue, do they? Well, let them follow it. 
It will not lead them to us.” 

*‘But,” put in Darkwood, “it does not state what the 
clue is. Does it Trevor?” 

“No. But we left no clue behind us. We have 
nothing to fear. If they are following a clue, be sure 
that it is a false one. Come, boys, if we mean to get 
back to New York to-night we had better hustle. Gas- 
kins, you had better drive us down to the station. It’s 
deuced dark to-night. I believe we will have a storm.” 

“Had you not better remain, then?” 

“No, I wish to get back to-night, storm or no storm.” 

Dr. Gaskins drove them to the station, which was 
only a short distance away. 

The night was as dark as Erebus, and they were glad 
when at last the train slackened and they were aboard 
for New York. 

“Come home with me to-night, Darkwood. It will 
be late when we get in, buti have my latch-key. You 
know I come and go as I please.” 

“Suppose your wife (?) knew of Helen?” asked 
Darkwood. 

“O, well, she doesn’t. If she should find out. I 
would be in a hole, sure enough. No one save the 
boys and myself know of that affair.” 

“Trevor, you’re a deep one.” 

“We are two of a kind Dark, old boy, so let it drop. 


no 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


When they arrived in New York, Trevor and Dark- 
wood made for Fifth avenue, while Tremaine went to 
his lodgings, which took him in the opposite direction. 

Better for Bertram Trevor had he remained at Bark- 
dale that night, but fate did not will it so. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


^‘Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, 

Such a dependency of thing on thing, 

As e’er I heard in madness.’^ 

As Bertram Trevor had predicted there was a ter- 
rible storm. It began shortly after he reached home. 
But it was nothing in New York compared to the 
ravages it worked at Barkdale. Dr. Gaskins remarked 
to one of the attendants that he had not seen such a 
wild night for years. 

The wind blew like mad, and the lightning flashed, 
followed by peal after peal of such thunder as would 
make a timid person's hair stand on end. 

The inmates of the asylum shrieked with fear every- 
time the thunder pealed forth, and it was as much as 
Dr. Gaskins and the attendants could do to keep some 
of them from dashing their brains out against the 
windows. 

Directly there was a still louder crash, a noise as of 
the cracking of timbers, and one of the attendants 
rushed up to the doctor crying : 

“Fire! The asylum is on fire! It has been struck 
by lightning ! Quick, Quick ! Save the lunatics while 
we have the chance!" 


II2 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


‘‘Good heaven exclaimed Dr. Gaskins. “Open the 
doors quick ! Do the best you can ! I have some val- 
uables I must save at all risks.” 

The attendants rushed from door to door, unlocking 
them, and taking out the least dangerous, crying to 
them to get outside as soon as possible, while they 
looked after the others. 

It was useless to attempt to save the building. The 
flames were gaining rapid headway, and it was as 
much as they could do to get the poor unfortunates out 
of the burning asylum. Finally all were gotten out in 
safety, but they had a difficult task in keeping them 
together, and Dr. Gaskins and the attendants managed 
to get them to the tumble down shed which served as a 
waiting room. 

They were drenched to the skin, and there they 
stayed in that condition until daybreak, in danger of 
losing their lives as well, for they knew not what 
minute some one would break into violence. 

The asylum burned to the ground, although the rain 
was coming down in torrents. 

At last when daylight appeared and Dr. Gaskins 
looked over his charges, he found to his amazement 
that two were missing. 

“My God, Jansen, didn’t you get them all out? 
Didn’t you unlock all the doors?” 

“Yes, I did.” 

“There are two gone. Davidge is not here, neither 
is Helen. You fool! you should have looked out for 
her, by all means. What were you thinking of man, 
to let her escape? 

“I couldn’t tell one from the other in that storm. 
Why didn’t you keep your eye on her?” 

“Good heaven I I forgot, man. We must find her ! 
We must!” 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY II3 

‘'I would like to know how you are going to do it. I 
think we have our hands full now. What is the dif- 
ference, she is harmless. I never did think she was 
much off, if any.” 

“She was, man. You are no judge. She must be 
found, I say.” 

But nevertheless she was not found. 

As soon as the first train stopped in the morning, 
Dr. Gaskins secured a coach, and piling the lunatics 
in, locked the door and started for New York, leaving 
one of the attendants behind to look for the missing 
patients. 

But when he arrived, he presented a sorry-looking 
spectacle, for one of his patients had become violent, 
and had flown at his face, which was one mass of 
scratches. 

However, he telegraphed for a conveyance from one 
of the city asylums, where he obtained permission to 
confine his patients until he could secure another place 
for them. 

The attendant that he had left at Barkdale to search 
for the missing ones returned the next day with the 
man Davidge, who was found near vhe scene of the 
burned building, but of the woman called “Helen,” no 
trace could be found. 

She had disappeared as completely as if the earth 
had opened and swallowed her. 

Bertram Trevor was in a perfect fever when he 
heard of the conflagration, but when he heard from 
Dr. Gaskin’s himself that Helen had made her escape, 
he was beside himself with anger at the doctor for not 
looking after her. 

Gaskins, I believe you did it on purpose. If you did, 
I will have your life. Do you want to ruin me ?” 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


II4 


'‘I swear, Trevor, it could not be helped. A night 
like that ! Ugh ! I wish you could have been there I” 

“1 wish to heaven that I had remained!” exclaimed 
he, as he paced backward and forward. 

“O, she will never interfere with you. Collect your 
senses, man and don’t cross a bridge until you come to 
it.” 

“That is all very well to talk about. Did you save 
the notes?” 

“All but one package, which I must have dropped 
in the burning building. I have all the rest safe and 
sound.” 

“It is a wonder you did not forget them,” sarcasti- 
cally remarked Trevor. 

“Look here, Trevor, don’t go and get crusty. I 
did the best I could.” 

“Well, remember, if anything comes of this I shall 
hold you accountable for it. You should have looked 
after my interests better than that,” he replied as he 
went out, banging the door after him. 


CHAPTER XX. 


“The base degenerate age requires 
Severity and justice in its rigour; 

This awes an impious bold offending world.’* 


All New York was in an uproar of excitement over 
the bank robbery at Sturgis & Co.’s. 

As had been stated in the papers, the watchman had 
been found not only drugged, but bound hand and foot. 
No suspicion was attached to him; nevertheless, when 
he returned to consciousness, the detective questioned 
him closely concerning what he knew. 

“Why sir,” he exclaimed earnestly, “you know 
about as much as I do. The last thing I can remember 
is that somebody grabbed me and placed a cloth to my 
face. I heard no noise nor saw any one. Whoever it 
was, had crept silently behind my back, and before I 
had any warning I was held in a grasp of iron ; and, 
as I said before, this cloth was pressed to my nostrils 
and I knew no more. 

“It is my opinion that someone had gotten into the 
building before closing hours and secreted himself.” 

“You don’t mean to say,” put in the detective, “that 
you think one man committed the robbery without 
aid?” 


Il6 THB DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 

“I didn’t say so, sir. ■ My opinion is that he had aid, 
and that after he had settled me, he let them in.” 

“Where were you at the time?” 

“I was standing with my back to the door there, sir, 
but I hardly think the man could have entered in that 
way without me hearing him.” 

“That will do Jones.” 

Entering the outer office, the detective questioned 
Messrs. Sturgis & Co., as to the integrity of the watch- 
man he had just been questioning. 

“O, Jones has been in our employ for years, and I 
have always found him to be honest, answered Robert 
Sturgis, the senior member of the firm. 

“You do not think then, that there is the slightest 
possibility of his connection in this affair as an accom- 
plice ?” 

“Not at all,” answered Mr. Sturgis. “You need not 
work in that quarter. I would almost as soon doubt 
myself as Jones. Why, man, the poor old fellow would 
not touch a thing that did not belong to him for worlds. 
We have found that out long ago, haven’t we Baxter?” 
addressing his partner. 

“Yes, Jones is O. K.,” answered Mr. Baxter. 

The detective said nothing more relative to the 
watchman being implicated in the robbery, but was sus- 
picious, notwithstanding, and determined to keep his 
own counsel. He kept his eye on Jones for the next 
few days, but he neither saw nor heard anything that 
would confirm his suspicion that he was a confederate 
of the robbers. 

Detective Masters was one of the shrewdest on the 
force, but for once in his life he was puzzled. He had 
followed several supposed clues, but they proved false 
ones. It was near midnight, almost a week after the 
burglary had been perpetrated, that he was going to 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


II7 

his home, when he heard loud voices in a side street, 
or rather court, and turned his steps in that direction 
to see what was the trouble. He heard a woman's 
voice, exclaiming in harsh tones : 

“Get out of here, you young imp of satan ! To stay 
out until this hour and then to come in empty-handed ! 
Get out, I say, and don’t show your dirty face around 
these diggings again until you bring me some money. 
I didn’t get you out of the poor-house for nothing, 
I didn’t.” 

“What’s all this row?” asked the detective, coming 
up at this juncture. 

“Oh! sir,” exclaimed the child in terrified tones, 
“take me away from here. She beat me, and now she 
has turned me out in the dark and I have no place to 
go.” 

“Took here, woman, this is a nice way to treat your 
child. What has she done?” 

“She’s no child o’ mine! I would not own such a 
child !” exclaimed the woman in a rage. 

“Why don’t you take her in ? This is a pretty time 
of the night to turn a child into the streets !” 

“She shall not come in! I don’t care where she 
goes ! I wash my hands of her !” 

“Come, little one, you can go home with me for to- 
night, and to-morrow I will see into this case,” said he 
taking the child by the hand and leaving the woman 
standing in the door grumbling to herself. 

“What is your name, child ?” he asked kindly. 

“Virgie Kenneth,” she answered in sobbing tones. 

“And how old are you?” 

“I was eleven last month, so Mrs. Biggs said.” 

“Is that the woman’s name ? Why was she putting 
you out into the streets ?” 


Il8 THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 

“She sent me out to make some money, and I didn’t 
get any to-day. I stayed out until late, but I couldn’t 
get a cent, and she beat me and put me out. My back 
hurts awfully.” 

“Poor little thing!” said the detective, sympathizing 
with the little waif. 

“Is that woman a relative of yours, little one?” 

“No, sir; she says she got me out of the poor-house. 
And I guess she did, because I can remember of being 
in a large house with lots of people.” 

“How long have you lived with this Mrs. Biggs?” 

“For about six years, because she said I was five 
when she first took me out. She wants me to beg, but 
I won’t do it, and then she beats me. I work for 
money, but I won’t beg.” 

“That’s right. Here we are at my home. I’ll see 
that she doesn’t beat you any more. 

“What, wife, you up yet?” as he found her sitting 
in the library reading. “Well, I’m glad that yoii are 
for here is a little girl I want you to look after. Give 
her something to eat and put her to bed.” 

“Where did you get her, John?” asked Mrs. Masters 
in surprise. 

“I’ll tell you all about it later; just see that she is 
made comfortable for to-night.” 

“Why, John, what a pretty little thing she is!” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Masters. 

“Why, so she is, returned he, as he saw the face of 
the child for the first time. 

“Hers is no common face.” 

“Come, little girl, go with Mrs. Masters and she 
will see that you have a nice comfortable sleeping place 
to-night.” 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


II9 

The child looked up with grateful tears in her eyes, 
and half-sobbingly murmured: 

‘‘O, sir, I'm so glad. I feel so tired.” 

“Poor little dear,” said Mrs. Masters, as she took 
the child by the hand and led her from the room. 

The detective little dreamed what a blessing this 
child would prove to him. 


CHAPTER XXL 


‘"Here hope began to dawn ; resolved to try, 
She fix’d on this her utmost remedy/’ 


Caro Darkwood had been confined at Vick’s for 
nearly a week, when a brilliant idea struck her. She 
had a pencil in her pocket but no paper. Looking 
around, she finally found a piece of cardboard which 
would serve her purpose admirably. Seating herself at 
the table, she wrote the following : 

‘‘Will whoever finds this, rescue a helpless girl. I 
am confined in this large stone house. 1 do not know 
whose it is. Third story room. I pray you to help me 
escape.” 

Going to the window, she thrust it out. It was night, 
and she felt sure that none of the inmates of the house 
would see it descend. Oh! if only somebody would 
find it and come to her aid. When daylight ap- 
proached, she went to the window and looked out to 
see if the cardboard was still where she had thrown it, 
but it was gone. 

Had some of the inmates found it? Who else would 
pass that way so early in the morning ? She waited all 
day in fear of hearing that she had been found out by 
some one below. But when that day and the next 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


I2I 


passed and nothing was said by the negress who 
brought her meals, she concluded that somebody else 
had found it. If they had, would they come to her 
rescue ? 

Another day passed, and still no one came, and Caro 
was almost in despair. But her despair was fated to 
soon turn to joy. It was about eight o’clock when she 
heard loud voices below and the tramp of feet. 

“What is it ?” she asked herself. 

Presently she heard a man’s voice saying : 

“Is this the room? Unlock the door!” 

The key was turned and the door swung open, ad- 
mitting the negress, who was followed by a detective. 

“O, sir, you have come to rescue me!” cried Caro, 
springing toward him. 

“Yes, miss, I have; and anybody else who may be 
locked up here. 

“Woman,” addressing the negress, “I want every 
door opened.” 

“All right, sir,” she replied in fear and trembling. 

“Come, miss. I’ll see you safely out. Your note 
brought us to the rescue.” 

“O, sir, did you find it?” 

“No, miss, I didn’t find it myself, but a little girl 
who is living with me at present found it the other 
morning while going for milk.” 

“God bless her!” reverently exclaimed Caro. “I 
would like to see the little child to whom I owe my 
release.” 

“Well, miss, you can easily do so if you go down 
to my home.” 

“Ah, another locked door ! Open this, woman.” 

The negress obeyed. 

No sooner was the door pushed open than a woman 


122 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


rushed out ; but as soon as she got outside, she halted 
and started as if shocked. 

'^Miss Caro! Miss Caro! Oh, I knew you were 
alive! Thank God! Thank God!” 

At the first sound of her voice, Caro looked up. 

“Celine, you here too!” she exclaimed joyfully, as 
Celine grabbed her hand as if she were afraid she 
would vanish were she to let go her hold. 

“O, Miss Caro, how came you to be in this house?” 

“Trapped, the same as I suppose you were. But 
come, let us go out of this place.” 

“Where shall we go, Celine.” 

“To my sister’s, miss.” 

“O, wait a minute ; I must see the little girl who was 
instrumental in effecting our rescue. 

“Sir,” she said, turning to the detective, “please tell 
me your address, that I may see the little one.” 

“Here, miss, is my card, with my address on it.” 

“Thank you sir. I shall not forget your kindness 
in rescuing a helpless girl,” she said as she looked at 
the card and read the name: 

“John R. Masters, 

Detective.” 

As they passed down the street together, Caro 
turned to Celine : 

“How came you to be in that house, Celine? I was 
never more surprised in my life than when you rushed 
out of that room.” 

“It was the work of Philip Darkwood and Bertram 
Trevor.” 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


12 ^ 


“Philip Darkwod and Bertram Trevor? Did I hear 
aright?’^ Why, Bertram Trevor is the name of the 
man who trapped me into that place. And are he and 
Phil Darkwood friends?’^ Caro asked in amazement. 

“Yes, they are friends, and they are both villains!” 
exclaimed Celine. 

“But how came you to be in New York?” 

“I was in the employ of Bertram TrevoPs wife. She 
got me to follow her husband one day, and I followed 
him and Philip Darkwood to that house we just left, 
when I was grabbed by Bertram Trevor and forced in- 
side. And there I have been locked up ever since. And 
just think,” she continued, “we have been so close to 
each other all this time and didn^t know it. But Miss 
Caro, tell me how you came to be in New York. You 
know you are supposed to be dead and buried, but of 
late I haven’t believed it, for I was sure that I saw you 
one day in a passing carriage.” 

“It is a long story, Celine. I will tell you about it 
when we reach your sisters. Are we almost at the ad- 
dress on this card?” 

“Yes, it is right around the comer.” 

A lady, who proved to be Mrs. Masters, answered 
the bell. 

“We came to see the little girl who found that note,” 
said Caro. “Your husband directed us here.” 

“Ah, you are the young lady? Come in. Virgie, 
come here,” she called to the girl. 

The child came timidly forward. 

“And this is the little one ? Why, what a dear little 
creature!” exclaimed Caro. 

“Do you know, my dear,” addressing the child, “that 
you have done me a great service ?” 

“I’m glad, miss,” she answered. 


124 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“I shall not forget you. What is her name, Mrs. 
Masters ?” 

“Virgie Kenneth” is what she calls herself. 

As they left, she told them about her husband bring- 
ing the child home one night, and that they knew noth- 
ing of her parentage, as she was taken from the poor- 
house when quite small. 

‘‘Her face looks like some other that I have seen,” 
remarked Caro, as they made their way down the 
crowded street. 

“Don’t you know, I thought the same thing,” put in 
Celine. 

“She is no common looking child,” continued Caro. 
“Where have I seen a face like hers before?” she kept 
asking herself until they at last arrived at the home 
of Celine’s sister. 


CHAPTER XXIL 


“But let the bold conspirator beware ; 

For heav’n makes princes its peculiar care.” 

“Ah, Jennie, you see I was right, after all!” ex- 
claimed Celine, as she entered the presence of her 
sister. “Pve found her. She was not dead at all. I 
told you she was alive, and now you see.” 

“What! Is this Miss Caro, of whom you had such 
a strange dream?” asked Jennie, as she took the hand 
of Celine's mistress. 

“Yes, Jennie, it’s Miss Caro. Aren’t you glad^” 

“I am, indeed. But how was it that you were sup- 
posed to be dead and buried miss ?” 

“I will tell you all about it,” said Caro, and forthwith 
she told them all that had happened to her since she 
left Darkwood Villa. 

“Oh ! Miss Caro,” exclaimed Celine, when Caro had 
finished her story, you have found the real will ! You 
are not homeless after all !” 

“Will you go to Darkwood now and claim your 
rights ?” asked Jennie. 

“Not just yet. I have additional cause for revenge 
on Philip Darkwood, and if I should return to Dark- 
wood now he would be apt to take French leave, and 
thus rob me of the revenge I have sworn to have. 


126 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“I wonder/^ she continued, ‘‘if any other young girl 
has had such strange experiences as I have had since 
papa's death. I have gone through enough to kill some 
people 

“Yes, and if some people had their way, you would 
be dead sure enough," put in Celine. “That Philip 
Darkwood is an out-and-out villain. “Why, if he ^ried 
to drown you, who knows but what he was the mur- 
derer of your poor dear papa." 

“What! Do you, too, think that?" cried Caro, as 
Celine uttered those words. 

“I do indeed. And Oh, Miss Caro, I had forgotten. 
I have the mate to that sleeve-button I gave you the 
day before you left the villa." 

“You found that? Oh! Celine, where is it? Let 
me see it ? Where did you find it ?" 

“I found it in the grate of the library at Darkwood. 
It evidently had been placed there with the intention 
of melting it, but it escaped injury. It is not at all 
defaced." 

“But where is it, Celine ?" 

“It is among my effects at Mrs. Trevor’s. I wonder 
what she thinks of my strange disappearance ?" 

“Shall you return there, Celine ?" 

“I must go there and get my luggage," she re- 
plied. 

It was the day folowing the detective’s visit to 
Vick’s, that Philip Darkwood, who had not yet heard 
of it, went there to see Celine. Other business had 
kept him away, so as long as she was safely locked up, 
he did not bother himself to pay her a visit. 


the: darkwood trage:dy 


127 


But lo and behold, when he reached his destination 
his bird had flown ! 

You can imagine his surprise at the turn affairs had 
taken, for he felt by no means at ease to think that 
Celine had escaped him. The more he thought of it, 
the more certain he became that ‘she had been follow- 
ing him. With the thought, came the remembrance 
of several occasions at Darkwood when he had come 
across her prying around. 

'T wonder where she has gone,’^ he muttered. ‘T 
will see if she has returned to Trevor’s.’' 

He had gone only a few steps when he came face to 
face with Trevor himself. 

^‘Hello, have you heard about the detective’s visit 
to Vick’s?” 

‘Wes; just heard of it.” 

“Well, we lost our bird.” 

“I have lost several,” said Trevor ; “but let them go.” 

“I was just on my way to your house to find out 
whether the girl had returned there.” 

“I do not know, Darkwood, whether she returned or 
or not. I haven’t been home for several days. I am 
worried about Helen. Suppose she should turn up, 
man ?” 

“Well, I think you would be able to turn her down 
again,” said Darkwood with a chuckle. 

“Deuce take Gaskins for his carelessness!” ex- 
claimed Trevor. “I do not believe he half searched for 
her, anyway.” 

“She would not know where to look for you, Tre- 
vor,” put in Darkwood, who did not care to be both- 
ered with Trevor’s affairs. 


128 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“No, I suppose not. Come, if you are bound for 
my house, we will go down together and see how the 
land lies.” 

“I hope she has not given us away if she has re- 
turned,” said Trevor, speaking of Celine. 

“If she has, you will be in for it sure enough, old 
boy. Prepare yourself for a curtain lecture.” 

“Well, you know how little effect her lectures have 
on yours truly,” said Trevor with a laugh of derision. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 


‘Tf ’t be summer news, 

Smile to 't before ; if winterly, thou need’st 
But keep that countenance still.” 

On arriving at the house of Bertram Trevor, Philip 
Darkwood learned that Celine had not returned as yet, 
and as it was approaching meal time, he made his way 
back to his hotel, where he was informed that there 
was a gentleman waiting to see him in the reception- 
room. 

“Did he send in a card ?” 

“No, sir; he just inquired if a Mr. Philip Darkwood 
was stopping here, and on being informed that there 
was such a person here, but that he was out, he said 
that he would wait until you returned. 

“How long has he been waiting?” 

“O, for several hours, sir. He certainly must wish 
to see you on urgent business or he would not have 
waited all that time.” 

“O well, if he has waited that long he can wait a 
little longer until I dine.” 

Having finished his dinner, he went into the recep- 
tion-room, where he found the man stjll waiting. 


130 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“Well sir, I hear that you wish to see Philip Dark- 
wood.” 

“I do, sir.” 

“Well, I am Philip Darkwood. What is your busi- 
ness ?” 

“Where is Dora Dene?” 

As Dr. Westlake — for it was he — asked that ques- 
tion so abruptly, Philip Darkwood's face whitened and 
he gave a noticeable start, which his questioner did 
not fail to see. Recovering quickly from the shock of 
such an unexpected question as had been put to him, 
he answered : 

“Dora Dene? Who is Dora Dene?” 

“Surely you should know,” returned Dr. Westlake. 

“Dora Dene,” he repeated. “Ah, yes, I have it. 
There was a maid at Darkwood by that name, now I 
come to think of it. I thought the name sounded fa- 
miliar. But why do you ask me where she is?” 

“Because I have good reason to believe that you 
know.” 

Phil Darkwood gave another perceptible start at 
these words. 

“I? What do I know about this Dora Dene? Do 
you think I bother with ladies’ maids?” 

“That is neither here nor there. I came here to ask 
you her whereabouts.” 

“Well, my friend, I know nothing about her. Who 
are you that you are interesting yourself about this 
Dora Dene. 

“If you wish to know, I am Dr. Westlake.” 

“Dr. Westlake, eh? Well, what is Dora Dene to 
you ?” 

“That is my affair. So you deny all knowledge of 
her?” 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY I3I 

“Most certainly. I know that she left the employ of 
her mistress rather suddenly. Why she went, or 
where, is a mystery to me, which I have never taken 
the trouble to try to solve,” he answered complacently, 
thinking the while that Dora Dene was lying at the 
bottom of the Hudson, or else had been washed out to 
sea, — he neither knew nor cared which, so long as she 
was out of his path forever. 

“You disclaim all knowledge of why she disap- 
peared so suddenly, but if harm has befallen her, and 
you are at the bottom of it, — as I believe at present, — 
beware of Dr. Hal Westlake!” 

“You had better be careful how you talk, man. Re- 
member you are accusing a gentleman, sir.” 

“That remains to be found out,” returned Dr. West- 
lake, as he arose to take his departure. Remember 
what I have said, — If you have harmed a hair of her 
head, beware!” 

Philip Darkwood laughed derisively as Dr. West- 
lake uttered that last word “beware.” 

When Dr. Westlake left him, his convictions were 
stronger than ever that Philip Darkwood was not an 
innocent man. 

And yet he had no proof of his guilt. 

He walked leisurely up Broadway for several blocks, 
wondering where he should go or what he should do to 
find a trace of his lost love. 

Should he advertise for her? he asked himself. 

He was pondering over the case in perplexity when 
he heard some one exclaim : 

“Why, of all people in the world. Dr. Westlake! 
What are you doing in New York?” 

Looking up, he saw an elderly lady in a carriage, 
which had driven up close to the curb. 


132 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“Why, Mrs. Barclay, how do you do,’^ said he, shak- 
ing hands with her. 

“O, I am superb. How is your mother? It is ages 
since I saw her, and we used to be such friends in our 
younger days.” 

“Mother is well, considering that she is growing 
old.” 

“Come, get in the carriage with me. I want to talk 
with you, and it will be so much better than standing 
here.” 

He needed no second invitation, so seating himself 
beside his old friend he launched into conversation. 

What brings you to New York. Is practice dull at 
present ?” 

“No, not at all. But I came to New York on a most 
important errand. In fact, I am trying to find a young 
lady who has mysteriously disappeared.” 

“How romantic ! A young gentleman trying to find 
a missing lady. Why, Hal, it sounds just like a novel. 
And when you find her, what will the sequel be ?” 

“That remains to be seen, answered he, smiling 
sadly. She is not found yet, however.” 

“You have not told me who she is yet.” 

“She was known by the name of Dora Dene at the 
time of her disappearance,” he replied. 

“Dora Dene!” cried Mrs. Barclay. 

“You are looking for Dora Dene?” 

“Yes; do you know anything of her? Speak! for 
God’s sake, and tell me if you do. Am I to find her at 
last? he cried joyfully. 

“Yes, I knew a Dora Dene, but it may not be the 
same one you are in search of.” 

“Where is she?” he asked hurriedly. 

“That I do not know at present. But several weeks 
ago there was a young girl staying with me who called 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


133 


herself by that name/’ 

“What was she like?” he questioned anxiously. 

“She was rather slender, not very tall, and had dark 
curly hair, cut short, and the most beautiful eyes I 
think I ever saw. 

“It is the same!” he exclaimed. “Where did you 
meet her ? How came she to be staying with you ?” 

“It was this way,” began Mrs. Barclay; “I was on 
my way home — we were coming down the Hudson — 
when some one saw the form of a woman floating on 
the water. She was brought aboard the steamer, and 
although it was at first thought that life was extinct, 
the captain’s wife finally brought her around. Some- 
thing, I know not what attracted me toward her, and 
as she said she had no home or friends, I brought her 
home with me, where she remained until she became 
stronger. I went shopping one day and left her at 
home, but I returned to find that she had gone, no one 
knew where. She left a note behind, saying that cir- 
cumstances compelled her to leave, and implored me 
not to mention the name of Dora Dene. And I thought 
it so odd, because she did not take her purse with her.” 

“And you have heard nothing of her since?” anx- 
iously asked Dr. Westlake. 

“Not a word.” 

“Have you any idea why she left you so suddenly ?” 

“I had not then, but since, after thinking it over, I 
have concluded that perhaps it was to avoid meeting a 
friend of mine who was to call. I had mentioned that 
fact to her before I left home, and at the time I thought 
she seemed agitated, but she attributed the cause to 
weakness, as she was not overstrong. And as she 
requested me not to mention her name, I feel almost 
certain that it had something to do with her sudden 
disappearance, although I may be wrong.” 


134 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGKDY 


*‘Who was this friend?” 

“A Mr. Philip Darkwood.” 

“Ah !” exclaimed Dr. Westlake. 

“Did she say how she came to be in the water?” he 
questioned eagerly. 

“She said she must have been thrown in by some 
one, but further than that I know nothing.” 

“She is alive, then? Well, as long as there is life, 
there is hope. And as long as she is in the land of the 
living I will not give up hope of finding her. And if 
I prove my suspicions to be correct woe to the fiend 
who would have consigned her to a watery grave !” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


‘'Our yesterday’s to-morrow now is gone, 
And still a new to-morrow does come on. 
We by to-morrow draw out all our store, 
Till the exhausted well can yield no more.” 


It was late one afternoon, when a woman, poorly- 
dressed, ascended the steps of St. Anne’s Asylum and 
rang the bell. It was answered by one of the servants. 

“I wish to see the matron,” spoke the woman in a 
timid voice. 

“Come right in, ma’am. I’ll send Mrs. Booth 
down.” 

Shortly, the matron, an elderly woman whose hair 
was turning gray, entered and bowed pleasantly to her 
visitor. 

“Good evening, ma’am. What is it? I am at your 
service.” 

“I am trying to find a little child,” the woman began. 
“I was at St. Vincent’s, but I was told that no child 
answering the description I gave was an inmate, 
so I thought I would come here.” 

“Do you know the child’s name?” 


136 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“I do not know what name was given it by the 
person who placed it in an asylum, but its first name 
was Virgie. I suppose that was not changed.” 

“It was a girl, then.” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, there is no one here now of that name, but 
wait a mom'ent, madam, and I’ll look over th’e books.” 

Returning with a large book, the matron seated 
herself and began to look over the entries. 

“When was the child placed in an asylum?” she 
asked. 

“It has been nine years, and at the time the child 
was about two.” 

“Perhaps this is the one. ^ It is the only one by the 
name of Virgie. 

“Let me see,” she continued, “this child was called 
Virgie Kenneth. An orphan, brought here by a man 
who gave his name as James Barton. -'\ge, two years.” 

“That must be she!” exclaimed the woman ex- 
citedly. “Is she here yet?” 

“No, she is not here now, but I can soon find out 
when she left, said the matron, turning over several 
pages. 

“Yes, here it is. Virgie Kenneth, taken from the 
asylum by a woman who gave her name as Mrs. Biggs. 
That was six years ago, so you see I had almost for- 
gotten the existence of the child.” 

“And this Mrs. Biggs. Can you tell me where she 
lives ?” 

“Indeed I cannot, but I dare say you could find out 
by looking in the directory. You see, if she had left 
her address at the time, which she did not, she may 
have moved a dozen times since then. She may even 
have left the city.” 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


137 


“Oh, I hope not!” exclaimed the woman despair- 
ingly, at the words of Mrs. Booth. 

“Are you a relative, ma’am?” kindly asked the 
matron. 

“Yes, a near relative,” she answered half-sadly, and 
bidding Mrs. Booth good-by and thanking her for 
giving her the information, she took her departure. 

“Will I find you, my little darling?” she murmured 
to herself. “Will I clasp you again in these arms that 
have not enfolded you for nine long weary years ? 

“Oh I my baby, it was cruel, it was fiendish, to tear 
us apart like that, but with heaven’s aid I will find 
you, and then we will never be parted any more. 

“And then I will find him — find him, and I will see 
that he gets the punishment he deserves 1 

“I have succeeded thus far in tracing my child, and 
I feel that the day is not far distant when I shall find 
him, too. How lucky I was to find this money just at 
the time I needed it. God has been good so far, surely 
he will aid me to the end. 

“I am getting hungry, so I may as well stop at that 
eating house and get my supper.” 

After leaving the restaurant she slowly made her 
way down a side street until she came to a dingy-look- 
ing house in which she had secured lodging. 

“What success to-day, ma’am,” kindly inquired the 
landlady as she passed her on the stairs. 

“I found the asylum, but she has been gone from 
there these past six years. To-morrow I shall begin 
my quest again. I shall never give up.” 

“I wish you good luck, ma’am, with all my heart!” 

“Thank you,” she returned, as she ascended the first 
flight to her room. 

She threw herself upon the bed and fell into a rest- 


138 THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 

less sleep. In her dreams she beheld her child in all 
sorts of places, and she would start in alarm as she 
beheld her in danger. 

At last she awoke, and looking out saw the day- 
light. Arising, she dressed herself and made ready to 
begin her day’s search. She determined to lose no 
time in idleness. 

Having secured her breakfast, she stopped at a 
pharmacy and asked for a directory. Then began a 
search for the name of Biggs, which she found 
covered two whole pages, and she was at a loss to 
know which one to select. Taking a slip of paper and 
a pencil from her pocket, she wrote rhe first twenty, 
and making a cross mark in the directory so that she 
might know where she left off, she started out to begin 
her search for the Mrs. Biggs who had taken the child 
named Virgie Kenneth from St. Anne’s Asylum six 
years before. 

She had a difficult task before her, but she never 
wavered. 

That day she visited ten families by that name, but 
none proved to be the particular “Mrs. Biggs” of 
whom she was in search. The next day she managed 
to call on the remaining ten, with no greater success 
than she had the preceding day, then went back to the 
druggists and wrote another list, to begin on the fol- 
lowing day. 

Thus for a whole week she worked, with no more 
success at the end of that time than when she had 
first started out. There remained only eight more 
names, and she hoped that one of these would prove 
to be the right one. She felt that she must succeed. 

At last she found her. The appearance of the 
house was not very inviting, but when she saw its 


THE DARK WOOD TRAGEDY 


139 


mistress she was still more disgusted. Neatness was 
a virtue unknown to Hannah Biggs, and everything 
presented but a sorry-looking appearance. 

“You are the Mrs. Biggs who took the child Virgie 
Kenneth from St. Anne’s?” 

“Yes, madam, I am that same person.” 

“Where is she? Can I see her?” questioned the 
woman eagerly. 

“She’s not here madam. A policeman took her up 
last night. That’s the last I saw of her.” 

“A policeman took her up? For what?” questioned 
she in frightened tones. 

“Lord knows ! You’ll have to go and find out. Ive 
washed my hands of her, I have. She’ll not come 
around here any more.” 

“Who was the policeman?” 

“I don’t know. He was a stranger to me. I’ve no 
time to talk to you, madam, the baby’s crying. I must 
go in.” 

With this she closed the door, and the woman she 
had left standing on the steps turned away in despair. 

Her child reared by a woman like that! Her child 
taken up by a policeman! Were her dreams to be 
shattered after all? 

Where was her child? Why was she m the hands 
of the law? she cried in fright. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


“Set your heart at rest; 

The fairy-land buys not the child of me.” 

“Well, John; inquired Mrs. Masters, “how are you 
progressing in that burglary case of Sturgis & Co.’s.” 

“I am puzzled, Mary — puzzled,” returned the detec- 
tive. 

“Have you found no clue at all?” 

“I thought several times that I had, Ivut it seems that 
they left not the slightest clue behind them by which 
they could be traced. I had an idea at first that the 
watchman was implicated, but I can find nothing to 
prove that he was. He still contends that he knows 
next to nothing concerning it, and all my efforts at 
tracking the burglars seems to be wasted time. 

“What time was the burglary supposed to have been 
committed ?” 

“Sometime between eleven o’clock and daybreak. 
The watchman says that he looked at the clock a short 
time before he was chloroformed, and at that time it 
was just eleven. But whether he tells the truth or not, 
I do not know.” 

“Did nobody see any one around the bank that 
night ?” 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY I4I 

“It seems not. At least, we have found no one as 
yet who had.” 

While they had been speaking, the child Virgie had 
been listening attentively. Presently she spoke: 

“Mr. Masters,” she asked timidly, “is Sturgis & 
Co’s., the large brown building next to that white stone 
house ?” 

“Yes, child, that’s the place,” he answered, patting 
her on the head. 

“And what time did you say the bank was robbed ?” 

“I don’t know exactly, but it was after eleven 
o’clock. Why, little one, you seem to be interested.” 

“I saw them,” she said. 

If the earth had opened and swallowed him, Detec- 
tive Masters could not have been more surprised than 
he was at the words of the child. 

“What! You saw them? You? Where were you? 
What were you doing out at that time of night ?” 

“Mrs. Biggs wouldn’t let me in and I had no place 
to go. You know those large steps to the big white 
house ?” 

“Yes. “Go on.” 

“I had no place to go and I was afraid, so I got 
under those steps where no one could see me.” 

“And you saw them ? How did they get in ?” ques- 
tioned the detective eagerly. 

“Somebody opened the door and they walked in.” 

“What I” exclaimed Detective Masters in surprise. 

“How many were there?” 

“Three,” she answered. “I only saw one’s face, but 
I didn’t know him.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me before, child ?” he asked. 

“Why, I never heard anything about the bank being 
robbed until just now when you were telling Mrs. 
Masters about it. ' 


142 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“I didn’t think then that they were going to rob the 
bank. I was afraid they would see me, and I was 
scared. I didn’t know that robbers could walk in so 
easily. I always heard of them breaking in the win- 
dows or picking the locks.” 

“Did you say you saw one of the faces ?” the detec- 
tive asked in excitement. 

“Yes, sir; the man that opened the door had a lan- 
tern, and when they started to go in the light struck 
right in one man’s face.” 

“Can you remember what he looked like?” 

“Yes, sir; he had a light mustache and his hair was 
light, and he was tall. Taller than you,” she added. 

“Do you think you would know him again if you 
were to see him ?” 

“I am sure I would,” she answered confidently. 

“Ah, I was right at first!” exclaimed the detective. 
That watchman was implicated. At last I know how 
to go to work. But that Jones is a shrewd one.” 

“O, John, to think that this child was the one to 
put you on the track !” cried Mrs. Masters. 

“How strange to think that as you did her a good 
turn, so now is she doing you one.” 

“She’s a trump. Come here, Virgie. You shall 
always have a home with me little one, and when you 
get older I mean to get you a place on the force,*' 
laughed the detective. 

“John, you will hug the child to death. Do give her 
time to breathe.” 

“There, little one, go along. Wife is getting jeal- 
ous.” 

The little girl had become quite a pet in the house- 
hold and had indeed proved to be a blessing to the 
detective. 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


143 


A large reward had been offered the detective if he 
brought the thieves to justice, and he declard if he 
secured it, half should go to the child Virgie Ken- 
neth. He meant to educate her and rear her as his 
own. No children had blessed their household with 
their merry prattle, and the coming of this little waif 
had proved a God-send. She was a beautiful child, 
with large violet eyes and curling yellow hair, and 
Mrs. Masters declared that a child with a face like 
Virgie Kenneth’s must have been well-bom. Although 
she had been reared amid uncouth surroundings, she 
was well-behaved and mannerly, virtues which could 
hardly have been instilled by the teaching of a woman 
like Hannah Biggs. The child had been used to harsh 
words and blows, and now fairly worshipped her 
benefactors, who made a perfect idol of her. 

While the woman who had spent days m search of 
this very child was still seeking her, believing her to 
be in the hands of the law, Virgie Kenneth was com- 
fortable and happy in the home of the detective. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


“You may as well use question with the wolf, 

Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb.” 

We will go back to the night of the destruction of 
Dr. Gaskin’s Insane Asylum, and the escape of the 
woman called “Helen.” 

As the attendants rushed from door to door, un- 
locking them that the inmates might get out of range 
of the flames, which were gaining rapid headway, 
Helen breathed a prayer that this would prove a chance 
for escape from that prison-house where she had been 
confined for nine long wearisome years. At last her 
door was unlocked and she was told to get outside as 
soon as possible. She needed no second bidding, but 
hastily descended the stairway leading to the main hall. 
As she neared the foot of the stairs she saw the form 
of Dr. Gaskins going down the hall toward a side en- 
trance. She also saw him drop a package upon the 
floor. 

Pausing an instant until he had disappeared, she 
picked up the package, thrust it into the pocket of her 
gown, and sped down the steps out into the darkness 
and storm. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


145 


She scarcely knew which way to go. It was so 
very dark that she could not see her hand before her, 
but the occasional streaks of blinding lightning aided 
her in making her escape from the vicinity of the 
asylum. 

The flames lit up the night, and as she looked back 
she saw them grow brighter and brighter. But this, 
she told herself, would not aid them in oursuing her, 
for she had reached a large woods where it would be 
impossible to find one on a night like that. 

A blinding flash of lightning showed her that she 
was in the midst of a forest. She was obliged to be 
cautious, lest she come in contact with the tangled 
underbrush. She was now drenched to the skin, but 
never paused in her wild flight. Liberty was sweet. 
What did she care for wind and rain when she had her 
freedom ? 

For nine years she had been deprived of liberty, and 
as she thought of all that she had gone through, she 
wondered that she did not die of despair. Onward and 
onward she plodded until at last she left the woodland 
behind her and emerged into what appeared to be a 
field. The storm by that time had begun to abate in a 
measure. 

Finally she saw a light ahead of her. Was she 
coming to a habitation ? she asked herself. As she 
drew nearer and nearer, a flash of lightning showed 
her an old tumble-down hut situated in a clump of 
trees. 

Should she seek shelter there? She paused for an 
instant, undecided whether to ask for a nighfs lodg- 
ing or to go on. 

No, she told herself, she would not stop ; she would 
go further. Her steps became slower as she travelled 


146 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


onward, for it had been so long since she had walked 
in the open air that she easily became tired, and her 
wet clothing greatly impeded her progress. 

At last the rain ceased, the clouds began to break, 
and finally the moon sailed forth in all her brightness. 

How quickly a storm can change into a beautiful 
calm ! 

Helen had less difficulty in walking when she had 
the moon to light her pathway. Once she stopped to 
rest a few minutes, and then resumed her journey to 
she knew not where. 

How glad she was when the first /creaks of dawn 
appeared. Where was she? she asked herself. She 
caught a glimpse of a boy with a pail of milk and ac- 
costed him. 

“Little boy, will you show me where I can go to dry 
my clothing and get something to eat 

“Come up to the house, ma’am ; I guess mother will 
have breakfast ready by this time.” 

Accompanying the boy, she came to a large farm 
house. A woman was standing in the doorway as if 
awaiting the return of the child with the milk-pail. 

“Here, mother, is a lady as wants some breakfast 
and some dry clothes.” 

“I will pay you, ma’am,” interposed Helen. 

“I have no money about me, but you can take this 
ring.” 

No, no, keep it. You are welcome to whatever I 
have to give you. As for your clothes, you can dry 
them by the kitchen fire. I’ll loan you a wrapper until 
they get dry. Were you out in the storm, ma’am?” 

“Yes, I was out in the rain, and I am drenched to 
the skin. Was it not a terrible storm that we had?” 

“It was indeed, ma’am. How came you to be out in 
it?” 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


147 


'‘I wanted to go to New York, and I started out and 
lost my way. I kept on walking and walking until I 
could come to some sort of haMtation I thought I 
never would come in sight of one. Is there a station 
close to this place?” 

‘^Not nearer than five miles. But if you want to get 
there, I’ll have Johnny hitch up the horse and wagon 
and drive you up after you have breakfast.” 

“O ! thank you, ma’am,” returned Helen, with tears 
in her eyes. 

It occurred to her that she had the package in the 
pocket of her dress, and when she went to change her 
clothes for dry ones, she took it out and opened it. 
What did she see? 

'‘Money !” she exclaimed. 

“Money ! and when I most needed it. Surely it was 
the hand of Providence that caused Dr. Gaskins to 
drop this package. I shall make use of it, at all events. 

“I must go to New York and find my child if it is 
still alive. My little baby that was so cruelly tom from 
me! 

“Surely heaven will avenge my wrongs ! 

“Such villains as he deserve no mercy! None! 
And once let me come across him, — I will have none! 

“Money will do most anything, and now I have it. 
I shall find my little one — rhy little Virgie. It is a 
wonder that I did not go mad indeed, if trouble makes 
one mad.” 

“I wonder where he is? Dr. Gaskins told me once 
that he was in New York and that my child was in 
the poor-house, and I believe he was telling me the 
truth. is there that I shall begin my search for her, 
and if God is a just God he surely will lead me to my 
little one. 

“How I long to clasp her in my arms and hear her 
call me ‘mother.’ ” 


CHAPTER XXVIL 


“If our hard fortune no compassion draws, 

The gods are just, and will revenge our cause.” 


When Dr. Westlake left the company of his old 
friend, Mrs. Barclay, he felt convinced that Philip 
Darkwood had a hand in the disappearance of Caro. 
His interview with him had availed him nothing so 
far as finding her whereabouts was concerned. 

He was at a loss to know how to proceed, and could 
not accuse Darkwood without having positive proof. 

He felt certain that the woman Cora Demar knew 
more concerning Philip Darkwood than she pretended 
at the time of his inquiries concerning Dora Dene. 
Miss Demar had said that Dora Dene left without a 
word of warning. 

Mrs. Barclay said that Dora Dene was picked up 
out of the Hudson. How came she there? She told 
Mrs. Barclay that she was thrown in. Who else would 
do it but Philip Darkwood? 

He decided to return to Darkwood Villa and see 
Cora Demar again. It was just at twilight two days 
later that he again stood in the presence of the woman 
he believed could aid him if she would. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


149 


“Ah, Dr. Westlake, you have returned. Have you 
found her?’" she asked, extending her hand. 

“No, Miss Demar, I have not found her, but I heard 
news of her which no doubt you will be surprised to 
hear.” 

“Well, why did she leave me so suddenly?” 

“Because Philip Darkwood put her in the Hudson 
to drown,” he answered. 

“What! Did he do that?” 

“I am convinced that he did.” 

“Well, then, he must have found out who she was. 
He would not have had any object in wishing Dora 
Dene out of his way.” 

Dr. Westlake loked up sharply, as she made the last 
assertion. 

“Miss Demar, will you answer me a question?” 

“If I am able to do so.” 

“Do you know of any object he may have had in 
wishing Caro Darkwood out of the way ?” 

She paused before she answered. 

“He may have been afraid that she knew something 
of his villainy.” 

“Miss Demar, won’t you be frank with me and tell 
me what you know concerning Philip Darkwood?” 

“What makes you think that I know anything of 
him ?” 

“Instinct,” answered Hal Westlake. 

“Well, listen. Dr. Westlake. I will tell you all, if 
you give me a promise.” 

“What is it? I will promise you anything if you 
will help me find Caro.” 

“Do not be too hasty in promising. If I tell what 
I know I will be obliged to leave the villa. I will have 
no home. If you will promise to give me a home until 


15 ® 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


I can obtain employment, and aid me m securing that 
employment, I will aid you in this, and at the same 
time revenge myself on Philip Darkwood I know 
something in his past life that gave me a hold on him. 
I was poor and struggling along as best I could to 
keep body and soul together, so I made up my mind 
to come here and make capital out of my knowledge. 
As long as I remain quiet I get all I need. But if I 
tell, I am homeless.’’ 

“Tell me, and I will see that you are not homeless. 
You can come to my home. Only help me to find 
Caro.” 

“Well, listen, and do not judge me harshly for allow- 
ing all this sin to go unpunished when I could have 
brought him to justice. You heard, 1 suppose, that 
Caro’s father was murdered?” 

“Yes,” he answered, a sudden horror filling his 
eyes as he guessed what she was going to say next. 

“Well, I believe that Philip Darkwood is his mur- 
derer. Mind, I have no positive proof of this. But 
two years and a half ago I saw him shoot a man down 
in cold blood in a little sea-coast town of France. I, 
who was inexperienced and foolish, rushed out and 
accused him of the murder, when he grabbed me and 
threw me over a precipice to what he thought would 
be certain death. I did not go to the bottom, but 
lodged in a place where I was injured, but not ser- 
iously. I was found and carried home. 

“But I will not go into details. He left France, and 
I followed him to America, but lost trace of him until 
six months ago, when fate again put me on his track. 
You can imagine his surprise when I came here and 
confronted him. 

“Do you think I am wrong in judging him guilty 
of this last murder?” 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


151 

'"I do not. I feel with you, that he h the murderer,’^ 
answered Hal Westlake in a hoarse tone. 

“And that is not all,” said Cora, “I believe the will 
leaving Darkwood to him was a fraud. In fact, he as 
good as acknowledged that it was.” 

“But,” she added quickly, “remember that I thought 
Caro Darkwood dead and in her grave, or I would not 
have remained silent. I am not so bad as that. 

“And now. Dr. Westlake, do not you think a man 
like that would be capable of anything?” 

“I do, most certainly, and he is at the bottom of her 
disappearance. But we must get proof that he mur- 
dered Caro's father.” 

“I will manage it. Dr. Westlake. I will get him to 
confess it, and will have witnesses by, unseen by him. 
I did not tell you that his name is not Philip Dark- 
wood. 

“Not Philip Darkwood? Who is he, then?” asked 
Hal Westlake in surprise. 

“He is Gerald Seville, and the rightful owner of the 
name he now bears was the man I saw him murder in 
France.” 

“Good heaven ! What sort of a human being is he ?” 

“A villian of the blackest dye,” returned Cora. 

“And you would remain in the same house with a 
fiend like that?” 

“O, I am not afraid of him. He dare not attempt 
to take my life, because I left a written statement of 
his guilt in New York, which would be delivered to 
the authorities in case of my death or sudden disap- 
pearance, so you see it would ruin him to attempt to 
remove me.” 

“Nevertheless, Miss Demar, I would be on my 
guard. A criminal like that would stop at nothing.” 

“Do not fear for me. Doctor, I can take care of my- 
self.” 


CHAPTER XXVIIL 


‘T laugh to think how your unshaken Cato 
Will look aghast while unforseen destruction 
Pours in upon him thus from ev’ry side/' 


Celine waited several days before going to Mrs. Tre- 
vor’s to get her luggage. She did not wish to come 
in contact with Bertram Trevor, nor did she wish to 
add to the troubles of his neglected wife by informing 
her of her husband’s villainy. 

What excuse should she give her employer for her 
absence? She pondered over the question, trying to 
think of something that would satisfy her without let- 
ting out the truth. She did not want to pain the poor 
lady by a disclosure. 

“Ah, I have it!” she exclaimed at last. 

As good luck would have it, when she called at the 
Trevor residence Bertram Trevor was absent. 

“'Wny, Celine,” cried Mrs. Trevor, where in the 
world have you been? I was worried nearly to death 
about you, fearing lest something had happened.” 

“Why, ma’am, when I left here, — you remember my 
errand, I thought I would stop in at my sister’s while 
I was out. I found one of the children sick, so Jennie 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


153 


begged me to stay all night with her. When the doctor 
came he said he thought it was scarlet fever. After 
that I would not return and bring disease into your 
house, so I stayed. But the child is well now, and 
the doctor said it wasn’t scarlet fever at all as he first 
thought, but merely fever brought on by cold, and her 
blood was disordered.” 

“You might have sent me word, Celine, and have 
let me know why you could not come.” 

“I thought of that, ma’am, but there was nobody to 
send. 

“I am going to leave anyway, ma’am. Jennie wants 
me to stay with her for awhile. She has her hands 
full with five children.” 

“Going to leave me? And you suited me so well, 
too. “Well, Celine, did you find out that day where 
my husband , went ?” 

“No, ma’am. He just walked around the street — 
he and Philip Darkwood.” 

“I am very sorry to part with you, but of course you 
Icnow your business best.” 

As soon as her luggage was conveyed to her sister’s, 
Celine opened her satchel and looked for the sleeve- 
button. 

“Ah, Miss Caro, here it is ! Now let me see the one 
you have.” 

“They are exactly alike!” cried Caro. 

“They are the same buttons I have seen Philip Dark- 
wood wear ! 

“He is the murderer of my father I” 

“The villain !” exclaimed Celine. “Now we can put 
him in the hands of the law. He murdered your father 
and attempted to drown you. Surely that is enough 
to hang any man.” 


154 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“At last I shall avenge my poor father’s murder. I 
swore to find the fiend who committed the crime and 
I will soon have kept my oath. Now I must go to 
Darkwood and get the will.” 

“I will go with you, Miss Caro. You shall not travel 
alone any more.” 

“Very well, Celine, I shall be glad to have you go. 
You know you will be an important witness in this 
case, because you were the first to discover poor papa’s 
body, and you also found the missing sleeve-button. 
Celine, I believe it is you, and not I who have really 
done the most toward tracking Phil Darkwood.” 

“Won’t he be surprised, though, when he finds that 
you are alive?” said Celine, who in her imagination 
could see Phil Darkwood’s face when Caro should 
make her appearance at Darkwood Villa. 

“I guess he will be more than surprised when he 
finds himself in the hands of the law,” remarked 
Jennie. 

“Indeed he will,” put in Celine, who seemed to an- 
ticipate much satisfaction at the approaching down- 
fall of the man she hated so intensely “It would do 
me good to stand by and witness his hanging, for 
surely he will get nothing short of that.” 

Ah, Philip Darkwood, you little know what a chain 
of evidence is being piled up against you or you would 
not be taking things so easy as you are at present. 

Did you know that your intended victim was alive, 
your cowardly nature would prompt you to flee to other 
fields in which to practise anew your dastardly deeds. 

You have almost reached the end of your rope ! 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


“Unhelp'd I am, who pitied the iHstress'd, 
And, none oppressing, am by all oppress'd." 


When Helen left the home of Hannah Biggs, she 
was in a quandary to know where to go, or how to 
proceed to find her child. 

A boy came along selling papers. She bought one, 
and looked in the court news to see if there was any 
mention of a child being arrested, but there was none. 

At last she decided to go to police headquarters and 
make inquiry. But it was approaching night, so she 
told herself that she would wait until the next morn- 
ing. She entered a second-class eating house to par- 
take of her evening meal. 

A gentleman went in immediately afterward and 
kept his eye on her until she had finished eating and 
had paid her bill. 

When she went out he followed her. 

Unconscious of being shadowed, she slowly walked 
down the street to her lodgings. 

As the man saw which house she entered, he turned 
away with a satisfied look o'erspreading his face. 

“Aha ! so that is where you live is it ? I shall know 
where to put my hands on you, my lady. I have two 


156 THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 

of them, at all events, and I do not think there will be 
much trouble in finding the others. 

This is a new feature in the case. I had no idea 
that there was a woman connected with it, and she 
didn’t look like that sort at all. But you can’t always 
tell by their looks. But Sturgis recognized that note 
as some of those he marked himself, and as that 
woman had it changed at Bell’s restaurant, she must 
be an accomplice or she wouldn’t be in possession of 
the money. 

“It’s a wonder that she brought it out so soon after 
the burglary, and in New York, too. That’s the odd 
part of it that I cannot understand. 

“At any rate,” he chuckled to himself,” you will not 
be at large this time to-morrow, my lady, to spend 
stolen money.” 

It was after nine o’clock when he entered head- 
quarters and reported that he had a clue to the bur- 
glars at last. 

“Well, Masters, we wish you success,” answered a 
brother in the profession. 

“Thanks, old man, I think I shall have it, and the 
handsome reward offered by Sturgis & Co.” 

“You are a lucky fellow. Masters; but you deserve 
it, old fellow, if you bring the rogues to justice.” 

“I’ll do it before the week is out or my name isn’t 
John Masters, and I shall owe my success partly to the 
information furnished me by a child of eleven years.” 

“A child ! Why, what did the little fellow know ?” 

“It was a girl, man. I can’t stop to tell you about 
it now, pardner, but wait until the trial comes up. I 
daresay there will be some startling developments,” 
and with that Masters bolted out and hurriedly jour- 
neyed toward home, where he was always glad to go 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


157 


after his day’s duties had been performed, knowing 
that he would receive a welcome from his wife. 

And now he had still another to greet him — the 
child Virgie Kenneth. 

He was proud of her, and he looked forward with 
pride to the day when she would go on the witness 
stand and tell what she had seen on the night of the 
great bank robbery. 

He did not fear that she would be intimidated by 
a crowded courtroom, for although of a refined and 
gentle disposition, she was fearless. I'he only thing 
that made her timid was darkness. But he felt that 
she would outgrow that, and he told himself that she 
gave promise of a glorious womanhood. He intended to 
repay the debt he felt he owed her bv rearing her in 
comfort and surrounding her with such luxuries as 
he could provide, which he felt would be only fitting 
her for her proper station in life. 

He believed, with his wife, that the child was well- 
born, and he was not mistaken. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


“True dignity is never gain’d by place, 

, And never lost when honours are withdrawn.” 

Early the following morning Helen arose and 
started out for police headquarters to find out what 
had become of her child. Somehow or other she began 
to doubt the words of the Biggs woman. 

“Whv would an officer arrest a child of that age? 
What offence would a child like that commit that it 
would be necessary to place her in the hands of the 
law? And above all, my child.” 

And then she would say in despair : 

“What if she takes after her father? What if she 
has inherited his disposition. 

“Oh God!” she prayed, “restore my child to me 
spotless and pure, with no trace of a nature inherited 
from that fiend who does not deserve the title of 
father.’ ” 

She was about to turn the corner when she was ac- 
costed by a man who had come up behind her. 

“Madam, I have an unpleasant duty to perform, but 
you must remember that I am an officer of the law 
working in the cause of justice, I have a warrant for 
your arrest. 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


159 


At those words, Helen fell back a step and looked 
up at the officer with terror and surprise overspread- 
ing her countenance. 

“A warrant for my arrest?” she stammered. 

“Yes, madam.” 

“What have I done? What charge have you 
against me, sir? You must be mistaken. You have 
taken me for some one else.” 

“I am not mistaken, madam. Are you not the 
woman who entered Bell’s restaurant several night* 
ago and called for a meal?” 

“I was in that restaurant, sir, but what of that ?” she 
timidly inquired. 

“Well,” continued the officer, “didn’t you get a note 
changed there ?” 

“I did, sir.” 

“Well, that note was one that was stolen from Stur- 
gis & Co. It was marked and they have identified it. 
I arrest you for complicity in the robbery.” 

If a thunderbolt had fallen at her feet, she could not 
have been more surprised than when the officer in- 
formed her that she had been using stolen money. For 
an instant she was stricken dumb, but collecting her 
senses, she indignantly cried. 

“Sir, how dare you charge me as an accomplice of 
burglars !” 

“I am sorry ma’am, but you’ll have to come along. 
We can’t give you a hearing here in the street. You 
must admit that the fact of the money being in your 
possession is rather suspicious. Come along, madam,” 
commanded the officer, although in a kindly tone. 

All the way to headquarters she said not a word, but 
her brain was busy, nevertheless. The money, she 
had picked up after it had been dropped by Dr. Gaskins. 


i6o 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


Was he then one of the burglars ? If he was, who were 
the others? Was the man who had caused her to be 
confined in an insane asylum for nine years one of 
them? What should she say when asked how she 
came into possession of the stolen money? 

Suppose she told that Dr. Gaskins had it in his pos- 
session? Would not he come to the front and state 
that she had been an inmate of his establishment for 
nine years and that she was insane? 

Would he not swear that he never saw the money, 
and that she who had escaped from a madhouse may 
have gotten it somewhere else? 

What was the best thing to do? she asked herself 
again and again. She had a horror of being again 
placed in a madhouse, and if such a fate again befell 
her she would never find her child. Her one hope was 
her little girl. She had no other object in living — 
only to find her baby. 

The officer broke in on her troubled thoughts with : 

“Here we are, ma’am, at last.” 

Mechanically she walked up the stone steps, assisted 
by the officer, who somehow began to doubt the 
woman’s guilt. 

“Here, Jonason, give this woman into the charge of 
Mrs. Vassy, the matron. Gn along with Jonason, 
madam, and Mrs. Vassy will see that you are made 
comfortable until you can have a hearing 

As if in a dream, she followed the man through a 
passageway into a room in the rear part of the build- 
ing, where a kindly-faced woman came forward and 
relieved the man addressed as Jonason of his charge. 

“Have you breakfasted, ma’am?” 

Helen roused herself from the stupor that seemed to 
have envelopd her mind and answered with an effort. 

“I have, madam.” 


THE DARK WOOD TRAGEDY l6l 

“Why were you arested?’’ asked the matron in a 
kind tone. What have you done?” 

“Nothing at all, madam. He — ^the officer who 
brought me here — charged me with complicity in the 
great bank robbery of — ” 

“Sturgis & Co?” supplemented Mrs. Vassy. 

“Yes, that was the name.” 

“But, madam, I am innocent. I know nothing of the 
robbery, only what I have read in the daily paper.” 

“But what grounds did he have for accusing you?” 

“He said that I had some of the stolen money in my 
possession. I was not aware that the money I had 
made use of was stolen property or I would never have 
touched a penny of it. Never!” 

“How come the money in your possession?” in- 
quired the matron, becoming interested. 

“I found it. But to make you understand, I would 
have to tell you my history.” 

“Well, ma'am, I would be pleased and interested, if 
you wish to tell me. Bet me say to you that I believe 
you innocent. Your face, I think, is evidence enough 
of that fact.” . 

“Thank you for your belief, madam. Mine is a 
strange story, but what I am about to tell you is true. 

“Twelve years ago,” began Helen, “I eloped from 
my home with my lover. My father and mother, who 
lived in Maine, were wealthy. An aged aunt had left 
me a considerable property in my own right. She was 
eccentric, as you will see by what I tell you. As I said, 
she left this money to me, but only as long as I re- 
mained single was I to enjoy it. Upon the event of 
my marriage it was to pass to my younger sister. 

“My aunt was an old maid and was opposed bitterly 
to men and matrimony. The man with whom I eloped 


i 62 


THB DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


did not know of those conditions and supposed me to be 
wealthy. That is why he married me, as I soon found 
out to my sorrow. 

“For three years I lived with him, leading such a 
life as many another poor soul has led. My only com- 
fort was my little baby, which was born a year after 
my ill-fated marriage. All that time, I heard no word 
from home. They had disowned me. 

During those three years we lived on the outskirts 
of Boston. But suddenly my husband took it in his 
head to come to New York. So here we came, but I 
little dreamed of the fate that awaited me.” 

Pausing an instant to wipe the tears from her eyes, 
she continued: 

“What do you think he did? He had me confined 
in a madhouse. The doctor in charge must have been 
his colleague, for he knew that I was perfectly sane. 
This was his plan for getting rid of me. My child, I 
afterwards heard, was placed in the poorhouse.” 

“The wretch !” cried Mrs. Vassy. 

“That is too good a name for him,” continued Helen. 
“I believe that he is still in New York, but I do not 
know by what name he calls himself.” 

“How came you to get out of the madhouse ?” asked 
the matron. 

“It caught fire from the lightning and during the 
excitement I made my escape. And this money, that 
they say was stolen from the bank, I picked up after 
it had been dropped by Dr. Gaskins, the keeper of 
the asylum.” 

At those words the matron looked up in surprise. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


“The dull flat falsehood serves for policy, 
And, in the cunning, truth’s itself a lie.” 


“Jones, you are wanted in the office.” 

Jones, the watchman at the bank, arose slowly from 
his seat near the window, and followed the office boy 
out of the room. 

As he entered the office his face became a shade 
paler as he saw the detective who had questioned him 
so closely concerning the robbery. 

“You sent for me, Mr. Sturgis?” addressing the 
senior member of the firm, who was seated at his desk. 

“Masters wants you,” answered Sturgis. 

“Jones, ril have to arrest you.” 

“For what sir?” he inquired in a rather shaky voice. 

“For complicity in the robbery. You opened the 
door to admit the burglars.” 

“I didn’t, sir ; I swear it,” he began. 

“You needn’t perjure yourself any further, Jones. 
I know that you opened the door for them to enter. 
There is no use denying it.” 

“I do deny it, sir !” exclaimed he in frightened tones. 

“Well, I tell you there is no use. You were seen in 
the act.” 


164 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


He was struck dumb at the last statement of the 
detective. 

“Come along, old man, there is no escape for you.’^ 

“Why Jones,” said Mr. Sturgis, con.ing forward, 
“we thought you trustworthy, and this is the way you 
have repaid our kindness to you.” 

“Oh, sir!” he began, but he broke down and began 
to sob like a baby. 

“Come along,” commanded Masters; “that will cut 
no figure. You are guilty and you must expect to re- 
ceive your just deserts.” 

The criminals had not heard of Jones’ arrest, or 
they would have been apt to have skipped the town. 
They had no fear of the old man giving himself away, 
and they were sure there was no other means by which 
they could be found out. 

Bertram Trevor had by that time given up all 
thoughts of Helen turning up; he told Gaskins that 
he supposed she was too glad to get away, to run the 
danger of getting in their clutches again. 

“I wonder what has become of Darkwood,” mused 
Trevor. 

Scarcely had the thought passed through his mind 
when he came face to face with Darkwood himself. 

“Hello, Phil, where are you off to?” asked Trevor 
as he noticed that he carried a satchel. 

“To Darkwood,” he answered. I received a tele- 
gram this morning from Cora. I cannot think why 
she wants me, but the message said Yome immediately.’ 
It must be something urgent, so I thought the best 
thing to do was to go. Cannot make out how she dis- 
covered my address.” 

“When are you coming back?” 

“Cannot say, old boy.” 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 1 65 

“Well, Darkw(X>d, have you got your share of the 
boodle?” 

“You bet. It was deuced careless in Gaskins losing 
that package in the fire. It reduced our pile consider- 
ably.'' 

“What's done is done, so we may as well be satis- 
fied with what we have. Good-by, old chap. Good 
luck to you." 

Phil Darkwood made for the depot, while Bertram 
Trevor went on his way in the opposite direction to his 
doom. 


CHAPTER XXXIL 


“They often tread destruction’s horrid path, 

And drink the dregs of the revenger’s wrath.” 

It was almost night when Philip Darkwood at last 
arrived at the Villa. 

Hastily ascending the veranda steps, he asked as 
soon as he entered where was Miss Demar. 

“In the library, sir,” answered Javins. 

Placing his hat on the rack and depositing his 
satchel, he entered the library, where he found Cora. 

“Well, what is the matter? Why did you send for 
me in such hot haste?” 

“Because I wanted you,” she answered. 

“Humph I I suppose I have got to run at your beck 
and call!” 

“To be sure I” she laughed. 

“Well, I am here, what do you want? Money?” 

“Yes, I would not mind having some, but that is not 
the principal thing. I am thinking of returning to 
France.” 

“The deuce you are!” he exclairhed, and he could 
hardly suppress the note of joy that entered his tone. 

“Yes; but I want a certain sum to keep quiet con- 
cerning this murder. Give me three thousand dollars 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 1 67 

cash, and I will leave the country and no one will ever 
learn from me that you murdered John Darkwood, or 
that you forged that will.” 

“I never told you that I murdered the man John 
Darkwood, did I?” 

“I know that you did, though. Now confess the 
truth for once. Did you not?” 

“I will give you die sum you asked, Cora, if you 
swear to leave America. As you are sure anyway, I 
may as well tell you that I did commit the murder. 
Will you swear that you will never betray me?” 

“Yes, I swear it. I will never tell any one what you 
have just confessed to me, that you murdered the 
father of Caro Darkwood.” 

“Here, then, is the money,” said he, pulling a roll of 
notes from his bosom and counting out the amount.” 

“You must have struck luck lately, remarked Cora, 
noticing the large amount of money he had on his 
person. 

“I did strike luck,” chuckled he. 

“How?” she curiously inquired. 

“That is not for you to know. When do you intend 
to leave for France?” he inquired. 

“Are you in a hurry to get rid of me ?” 

“It is a matter of indifference to me,” he replied, 
but his looks belied his words. 

“O, well, I do not intend to hurry myself in the 
least,” returned she. “I may stay here a month or so, 
perhaps.” 

“Why, I thought you intended to go right away, or 
I would not have handed you over the greenbacks just 
yet. Give them back to me until you are ready to 
depart.” 

“Ah, no !” she said, as she laughed to herself. I am 
not quite so foolish as that. If I were to give them 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


1 68 

back, ten chances to one I would never lay eyes on 
them again. Ah, no, Mr. Gerald Seville, I will not be 
fooled by you again.'’ 

“Why in the deuce are you using that name. I 
thought that was dropped between us." 

“So it was," laughed Cora, “but I picked it up 
again." 

“Aren’t we witty," sarcastically remarked Phil 
Darkwood. 

“I do not know about the wit, but I am not the fool 
I was when I accused you of the murder I saw you 
commit in France. Do you not wish I was at the 
bottom of the precipice where you threw me ?’’ 

“If you wish the truth, yes,’’ he answered, growing 
angry, as he noticed she was becoming sarcastic. 

“Ah, well, I am not there. By the way, what did you 
do with Dora Dene?" 

“I told you before that I knew nothing of her." 

“You told a lie, then. I know what you did with 
her. You threw her into the Hudson." 

The suddenness of that accusation robbed him of 
his usual precaution, and he sprang back with the cry : 

“How did you find that out?" 

“Ah, you acknowledge it, do you ?’’ laughed Cora. 

“I acknowledge nothing," he answered, gathering 
his faculties and regaining his calm demeanor. 

“Yes you did," put in Cora. 

“You have acknowledged that you murdered John 
Darkwood, and that you forged that will. You also 
acknowledged that you put Dora Dene or Caro Dark- 
wood out of your path." 

“Good God !” he gasped. 

“How did you know that Dora Dene was Caro Dark- 
wood?" 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 1 69 

“That is my affair. Suffice to say that I know it I 
intend to bring you to justice,” she added. 

“You fiend !” he shrieked, as he sprang toward her, 
intending to grab her by the throat. 

But before he accomplished his design a voice cried 
out — 

“Stop that!” 

Turning to see where the voice came from, he was 
confronted by an officer of the law, who clapped the 
bracelets on his wrists before he realized the situation. 

“Gerald Seville, alias Philip Darkwood, I arrest you 
in the name of the law for the murder of John Dark- 
wood six months ago.” 

“This is your work, you she devil!” shrieked Philip 
Darkwood, turning to where Cora Demar stood smil- 
ing complacently. 

“Plow well you guessed it,” she responded. 

“I did not know you ” 

But her words were interrupted by peal after peal of 
the door-bell. 

“Who can it be?’” exclaimed Cora. 

At the same time Dr. Hal Westlake and another of- 
ficer emerged from behind the portiers. 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 


“To her laws 
We do deliver you/’ 

“Come, Virgie, little girl, I want you to accompany 
me to the lock-up. Pve got the watchman of the bank, 
and I want you to have a look at him and see if you 
recognize him as the person who admitted the burglars. 

“I did not see his face so well,” interrupted the child, 
but I think it was the watchman who opened the door, 
because he had a lantern in his hand. 

“Come along anyway and have a peep at the old fel- 
low.” 

Taking her by the hand he took her down first one 
street and then another in the direction of the lockup. 

“Have you found any of the others?” asked Virgie. 
“Not yet, little one, but I’ll find them, never fear.” 

Suddenly she plucked him by the sleeve and aston- 
ished the detective by exclaiming : 

“There he is now !” 

“Who? Where?” asked Masters, looking first to 
right and then to left. 

“There ; just crossing the street ! That’s one of them 
— the one I saw !” she cried, as she pointed to a man 
who had just crossed to the opposite side of the street. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 171 

“One of the burglars ?” hurriedly asked the detective. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Come, then, let’s follow him. Perhaps you are 
mistaken.” 

“No, I am not. I would know him anywhere,” ans- 
wered the child confidently. 

Following the man pointed out by the child, the de- 
tective managed to get a look at his face. 

“Why, little one, you must be mistaken. That is Mr. 
Bertram Trevor, of Fifth Avenue.” 

“No, sir; I am not mistaken. I got a good look at 
his face just now and it is the man I saw that night. 
The light shined right in his face.” 

The detective could scarcely believe it, and yet the 
little one seemed so confident that she was right, that 
he told himself perhaps she was right, after all. 

How many criminals masquerade in the guise of 
gentlemen. 

Tracking his footsteps for a considerable distance, 
they finally saw him enter a law office. The mme on 
the door was “Jasper Tremaine.” 

Stopping at the corner of the street. Detective Mas- 
ters finally had the satisfaction of seeing him come out 
again, but he was not alone. A short, thick-set man 
was with him — presumably Jasper Tremaine. 

“Oh ! Mr. Masters, I bet that’s another one. Now I 
remember one of them was short, but I couldn’t see his 
face.” 

“Are you sure, Virgie, that the tall one is the one 
whose face you saw. You know I must be positive of 
it.” 

“Yes, sir; that is the one.” 

“Well, little one, I can’t take you to see Jones to- 
day. I’ll have to take you home and see to getting that 
man under lock and key. 


72 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


That day he swore out a warrant for the arrest of 
Bertram Trevor on suspicion of being connected with 
the Sturgis bank robbery. 

He had no trouble in finding him, and soon had him 
where he could have no chance of skipping. 

He was taken by surprise when nabbed by the detec- 
tive, but would say nothing farther than that he knew 
nothing of it, and would make him pay for arresting 
an innocent man. 

But when he found out that Jones had been cap- 
tured, he collapsed and his colors fell. 

Detective Masters had one of his brother officers 
keep his eye on Jasper Tremaine. 

The trial was set for several days hence. 

Jasper Tremaine, upon hearing of the arrest of Trev- 
or, decided that the best course for him to adopt would 
be to take French leave. 

He was just about to put his plan into execution 
when he was quietly arrested by the officer who had 
been watching his movements. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


“The base degenerate age requires 
Severity and justice in its rigour.’^ 

“Who can it be?” repeated Cora Demar, as the bell 
pealed forth. 

Presently there was the sound of the opening of a 
door, and the inmates of the library heard a man cry 
out — 

“Holy saints ! It's a ghost !” 

A few minutes more and the door of the library was 
pushed open and two women entered. 

“Caro alive! Great Heavens!” gasped Phil Dark- 
wood, as he caught a glimpse of her face. 

“Caro, my darling, at last! joyfully cried Dr. West- 
lake, rushing forward and taking her in his arms. 

And it was well that he did, for she was overcome 
by joy and excitement. 

“And Celine!” cried Darkwood. 

“Yes, Celine, you villain !” answered she. “I see you 
are already in the hands of the law.” 

But seeing that her mistress was so agitated, she re- 
quested Dr. Westlake — whom she had never seen be- 
fore, but had guessed who he was — to take Miss Caro 
into the drawing-room, where she would attend to her. 


174 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


“Well, Miss,” said one of the officers, we will have 
to take our prisoner and make for the train if we wish 
to reach New York to-inght.” 

“Yes, take him!” exclaimed Celine, who had re- 
mained in the room. “He murdered Miss Caro’s father.” 

“We know, miss,” said the officer. “We know all. 
I suppose you will be a witness ?” 

“Yes, sir; and glad of having a chance to condemn 
that villain,” pointing to Philip Darkwood. “Officers, 
you will find several of your brothers outside. We 
brought them along, not expecting to find him already 
in the hands of the law. 

As the officers conveyed their prisoner from the 
room, Philip Darkwood cast a malicious glance in the 
direction of Celine and Cora Demar. 

After they had gone, Celine turned to Cora — 

“Are you Miss Demar ?” 

“I am, and it was I that got him to confess the crime 
in the presence of the officers and Dr. Westlake. They 
were hidden behind those portiers.” 

“God bless you, miss ! I am Miss Caro’s maid. That 
reminds me, I must see how she is. Poor dear, she has 
been so brave up to the last, but the excitement at see- 
ing Philip Darkwood, and the joy of knowing that he 
was captured at last, was too much for her.” 

She went to the drawing-room door, but looking in 
and seeing that her mistress was all right she quietly 
withdrew and left the lovers to themselves., 

Upon observing Caro’s agitation. Dr. Westlake had 
conducted her into the drawing room and seated her on 
the sofa. She soon became composed. 

Raising her eyes, she looked up into those of Hal 
Westlake, who was anxiously bending over her, wait- 
ing for her to become calm, before he would speak. 


THE DARKWOOD TRAGEDY 


75 


Seeing that she had regained her composure, he gave a 
joyful cry and dropped on his knees beside her. 

“My darling ! My darling ! At last I can hold you in 
my arms,” as he gathered her to him. 

“Oh, Hal, I am so glad, so glad! Don’t let me go 
from you any more I” she sobbed. 

“You never shall, dearest, never! I mean to hold 
you so all the rest of my life. I was almost mad with 
grief and despair. I have been searching for you so 
long and had almost lost hope. 

“Oh, Caro, darling, I shall go mad with joy,” ex- 
claimed he, as he pressed kiss after kiss on her lips, 
eyes, and hair. 

Lovingly she wound her arms around his neck, and 
placing her lips to his she kissed him of her own sweet 
will. 

“Oh ! Hal, how I love you.” she murmured. 

“Darling! And now as that fiend is in the hands 
of justice, you will keep your promise and be my own 
dear little wife?” 

“Need you ask it?” she said, in a low tone. 

“God bless you, Caro, my darling, my wife-to-be,” 
he reverently murmured, as the tears of a heart over- 
flowing with joy and thanksgiving filled his manly 
eyes. 

After they had conquered their emotion somewhat, 
Caro asked. 

“How is it that you are at Darkwood, and how did 
it happen that Phil Darkwood was already in the hands 
of the officers when Celine and I had come here for 
that very purpose?” 

“You owe it all to Miss Demar,” he answered, telling 
her the whole particulars. 

“And he is not a Darkwood after all? I am glad of 
that,” said Caro. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


“ Whatsoever a man soweth, 

That shall he also reap.” 

The court room was crowded. All New York was 
interested in the issue of the trial. 

A murmur ran through the room as the first witness 
was called, ‘Wirgie Kenneth.’’ 

No one expected to see a child upon the witness 
stand. 

In a staightforward manner she told how she had 
been turned out by the Biggs woman and how she had 
sought shelter underneath the steps of the house ad- 
joining the bank and had seen a man with a lantern 
open the door for three men. 

The attorney asked — 

“Did you see any of their faces ?” 

“Yes, sir; one.” 

“Are any of the prisoners there the one you saw ?” 

“Yes, sir; that one,” pointing toward Bertram 
Trevor. 

At the mention of the name of the child his face had 
paled perceptibly, but as she made the assertion that he 
was one of the burglars he looked as if he were going 
to faint. 

The next witness called was “Helen Livingston.” 

No one answered to the name. 

“She has not arrived yet,” said the attorney. 


DARKWOOD TRAGRDY 


177 


But at that instant the door of the court-room opened 
and a woman entered and walked up to the stand. 

As Bertram Trevor saw her he uttered a half-sup- 
pressed cry of baffled rage. 

'‘What do you know, madam, of this affair?” asked 
the attorney. 

“Two days ago,” she began, “I was arrested for using 
stolen money. This money I found as I was making 
my escape from Dr. Gaskin’s insane asylum which had 
caught fire. The money was dropped by Dr. Gaskins, 
therefore he must have had a hand in the robbery.” 

“Do you know any of the prisoners ?” 

Casting her eyes in their direction she caught a 
glimpse of Dr. Gaskins’ face. Looking further she 
saw — 

“My heaven Paul Livingston, my husband!” she 
cried. 

The whole courtroom became a scene of excitement 
at those words. 

“Paul Livingston? Which is Paul Livingston?” 
asked the attorney. 

“That one,” pointing to Bertram Trevor. “That is 
Paul Livingston, who placed me in an insane asylum, 
where I was confined for nine years, and my child — 
my little Virgie, he placed in a poorhouse. I have 
searched for her — her name they said was Virgie Ken- 
neth. Oh ! fiend,” she cried, losing control of herself, 
“where is my child?” 

“I am Virgie Kenneth I” cried a voice behind her. 

Looking around she saw the child for the first time. 

“You Virgie Kenneth ? At last, at last ! I am your 
mother !” 

Everything was forgotten — court, judge, people — 
everything. Clasping her child in her arms, she fainted 


178 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGKDY 


for very joy, and would have fallen had not the prose- 
cuting attorney, who sat nearest her, caught her as she 
swayed. 

Everywhere confusion reigned. 

Helen Livingston was carried from the courtroom, 
and the trial continued. 

When Bertram Trevor — or Paul Livingston — was 
asked what he had to say in his defense he answered — 

“Nothing, but there was another as guilty as we — 
Philip Darkwood.” 

“He has already been arrested, charged with the 
murder of the late John Darkwood,” announced the 
attorney. 

When Mrs. Bertram Trevor, as she had supposed 
herself to be, heard of the charge brought against her 
husband, the shame of it nearly killed her, but when 
she learned that she was not his wife (although he had 
brought disgrace on her, she felt thankful that she had 
escaped being the wife of a felon. 

Shortly afterwards, she disappeared. Where she 
went no one knew, but every one supposed that she 
wished to leave a city where everyone knew of her and 
of the disgrace brought upon her by Bertram Trevor. 

Caro Darkwood, accompanied by Dr. Westlake, Cora 
Demar, and Celine were present at the trial of the bur- 
glars, and when Helen Livingston was carried from the 
room, Caro followed and did what she could for her. 

She had not forgotten that it was Virgie Kenneth — 
this woman’s child — who had been the means of effect- 
ing her escape from the house where Bertram Trevor 
had confined her. 

“How strange,” she mused, “that that man’s child 
had been the means of releasing her father’s victim.” 

When the trial was over and the criminals had been 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGRDY 


179 


sentenced, Caro insisted that Mrs. Livingston should 
accompany her to Darkwood Villa. 

Mr. and Mrs. Masters were loath to give up the 
child Virgie, but what could they do when her mother 
claimed her? So when Caro returned home, Helen 
Livingston and Virgie went with her. 

Bertram Trevor — or Paul Livingston — and Jasper 
Tremaine were each sentenced to eight years in .the 
penitentiary. Dr. Gaskins, who only received the sto- 
len money, got five years. Jones, the watchman, also 
got eight years. The old man broke down completely 
when the judge pronounced his sentence. 

A month later Philip Darkwood was tried and found 
guilty of the murder of John Darkwood. Cora De- 
mar’s evidence produced a sensation. 

When Caro went on the stand to give her evidence 
every eye was turned upon her with admiration. Ex- 
clamations were heard on all sides : 

“What a beautifel girl!” 

“Isn’t she charming I” 

And when, with tears in her eyes, she told of the 
night of the murder, there was not a dry eye in the 
house. Philip Darkwood — or Gerald Seville — was sen- 
tenced to be hanged seven months from the day he re- 
ceived his sentence. 

No one felt any pity for him. He deserved his fate, 
for a more unprincipled villain never lived. 

When, after the trial had ended, Caro took posses- 
sion of her inheritance, which would have been hers 
had there been no will at all, Cora Demar returned to 
Darkwood with her, but she soon intended to return to 
France. She longed to see her old home. Caro and 
she became close friends, for had they not both been 
victims of Gerald Seville’s villainy ? 


CHAPTER XXXVL 


“He is the half part of a blessed man, 
Left to be finished by such as she ; 

And she a fair divided excellence, 

Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.” 


It was the wedding day of Dr. Hal Westlake and 
Caro Darkwood. 

The nuptials were to be performed in the drawing- 
room at Darkwood. At last she was to be the happy 
wife of the man she loved beyond expression — the man 
whose whole life was centered in her. The only sor- 
row that clouded her sky was the remembrance of her 
father. 

“If he could only be here to witness my happiness,” 
she said to Celine, who was dressing her. 

“He sees you, Miss Caro, and you can be sure that 
he is rejoicing with the angels at his daughter’s happi- 
ness. And if he were living and could choose a hus- 
band for you, he could not wish a nobler man than Dr. 
Westlake.” 

“Thank you, Celine. You give me great comfort.” 

“Where is Virgie? Ah, here she is. Is my little 
maid of honor ready ?” 

“Yes, Miss Caro, I’m ready.” 


THK DARKWOOD TRAGKDY l8l 

‘C‘ome, then, little one, we must not keep them wait- 
ing too long.” 

She was joined at the door -by Detective Masters, 
who was to give her into the keeping of one of the no- 
blest of God’s noblemen. 

A slow flush stained her face as Hal Westlake, hold- 
ing her hand in his, promised to love and cherish her 
until death. 

At last the ceremony was over and congratulations 
were the order of the day. Friends were all around 
her. Mrs. Barclay, who had turned out to be an old 
schoolmate of Caro’s mother, was there, and rejoiced 
that the girl she had taken such a fancy to as Dora 
Dene was at last united to one whom she knew would 
stand between her and the world, which was full of 
snares for unwary feet. 

Mr. and Mrs. Masters were also among the guests, 
while Mrs. Livingston, who had consented to remain at 
the Villa as head housekeeper, endeavored to forget her 
past troubles, when she was the victim of her husband’s 
treachery ; and in spite of all, her face wore a contented 
expression. 

Virgie, who was to remain at Darkwood with her 
mother, was petted on all sides. 

Detective Masters insisted on settling twelve hun- 
dred dollars on her, that being one-half of the reward 
he received for his excellent work in bringing the bank 
robbers to justice. 

Shortly after the ceremony, Cora Demar started for 
New York, where she was to sail the following day for 
France. 

Caro made her a present of a handsome sum, telling 
her that after all, she was more instrumental in aveng- 
ing her father’s murder than she had been, and that she 


1 82 THH DARKWOOD TRAGKDY 

was glad of it, although she had made an oath that she 
would do it herself. 

The murder of John Darkwood had been avenged, 
and Caro tried to forget the dark days and trials she 
experienced while endeavoring to bring her father’s 
murderer to justice. 

The newly-wedded pair were to spend their honey- 
moon at Rose Lodge, where Mrs. Westlake, who re- 
joiced in the happiness of her son, was to soon follow 
them, accompanied by Celine. 

When they were seated in the carriage which was to 
convey them to the station, Hal turned to Caro, and 
asked in a tender tone 

'‘My darling, are you happy ?” 

“Yes, dear Hal, in spite of all, I am happy,” she re- 
plied. 

“God bless you, my own dear wife ! I am glad that 
the past does not mar your happiness on this, our wed- 
ding day..’.’ 

“Hal, I am contented that I am yours at last, and I 
am sure that the strength of our love will consign all 
past troubles to oblivion.” 



FINIS. 
















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